


Bog Scissorhands

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You see, before he came down here, it never snowed.  And afterwards, it did."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just had to use this Movie AU, it was too wonderful to pass up!  
> Enjoy! :D

Dawn groaned as she scratched off the twenty-eighth person on her list and tossed her clipboard into the passenger seat.  That was everyone on her street that was normally home at this time of the day.  Her part-time neighborhood Avon sales job was tough, but she had to earn some extra money for college somehow.  Unfortunately, she hadn’t made a single sale this week and at this rate, she’d get fired for sure. 

Her slim, manicured hand drifted absentmindedly out her open car window to her side mirror and she drummed her fingers against it as she tried to think of a solution. 

There just _had_ to be someone around here that needed something in terms of skin, nail or hair care!  Honestly, in her opinion, everyone woman she knew could use what she was selling; they were just too stingy to buy.

She gave the mirror a firm tug to adjust it, but froze once she saw what the new angle caught in its reflection:

Dark Forest Manor.

Her teeth grazed her bottom lip as she contemplated her next move.

It was a local legend around that the black, spiky house atop Goblin Hill was haunted; even _she_ had believed the stories as a child.  However, now that she was older, she knew that ghosts weren’t real and just because nobody had actually _seen_ anyone around, it didn’t necessarily mean the house was empty.  A recluse was still a person and a person was a possible customer.       

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, she told herself as she put the car in drive for a U-turn, and headed up the street towards her spooky destination.    

Surrounding the entire property was a seven foot high cracked wall of charcoal-grey stone.  The front gate had fallen over years ago and the winding, dirt road beyond leading up to the mansion was overgrown with dead trees, ferns and crabgrass.  Even in broad daylight, they cast unsettling shadows all around.  Dawn nervously shifted in her seat as she made another turn around a bend in the path.  Yeah, a nighttime trip up here would’ve been an automatic deal breaker.

When she finally reached the inner stone wall surrounding the house, she was grateful for the break in the tree line, allowing pure summer sunlight to paint the area and give her a bit more confidence as she stepped out of her car with her Avon case and approached the ajar gate covered in tendrils of dead vines and framed by an elaborate archway with various animals carved into its surface.    

She slipped through the opening and brushed back the curtain of vines, revealing an open courtyard and her breath caught in her throat at the unexpected beauty around her.

“Oh my…….goodness.” 

Flanking a graveled path in the center of the space was a perfectly manicured lawn with a rainbow of lush flowers accenting every corner and the most gorgeous topiaries she had ever seen!  There was a sea serpent, cut in such a clever way as to make it look like it was swimming through the grass, a stag striking an elegant pose, a crane pointing its beak to the sky, a pterodactyl about to take flight, and a cute squirrel about to make a playful leap.

“Oh it’s so _beautiful_!”

The walkway ended in a sort of small cul-de-sac before the house’s front steps, and in the middle, was another topiary.  This time, it was a large human hand nestled in a stone bed of purple and yellow poppies; it almost seemed to be hesitantly reaching for the heavens.

Dawn glanced around in complete awe.  If the person that lived here was capable of creating such splendor, perhaps there was nothing to be afraid of after all in the gloomy old mansion that towered before her.

Speaking of which, she thought she caught movement in the broken second story window directly above the front door.      

“Hello?”  She called shielding her eyes against the sun. 

There was no one there now and no reply, but she was certain she’d seen something.

Someone was home. 

Squaring her shoulders at the assurance, Dawn marched up the steps to the door.  It was a thick slab of wood planks, rusty hinges and iron studs.  A large, metal ring hung from its center, serving as the knocker and the matching handle looked like a cross between a tree branch and a ribbon.  Carefully, she reached out and rapped the knocker against the door.

There was no answer, but she wasn’t discouraged.  Whoever was in there had to be dreadfully shy, so this would just need a bit more prodding on her part.  Besides, she was the freaking goddess of social butterflies!  She could make friends with anyone.    

“Hello?”    

She pushed the creaking door open, it was not as heavy as she expected, and entered the dreary house. 

“Hello?”  Her voice echoed off the walls.  “Avon calling!”

A large foyer greeted her, and it was quite a contrast to the spectrum of colors she’d just passed through outside.  Nothing but shades of grey accented by strips of white sunlight streaming in through the cathedral windows to be seen.

There were a few sticks of furniture covered with threadbare sheets sitting against the front wall and as she walked through the room, she noticed a grim, humanoid statue at the base of an open stairway.  But what struck her as truly odd was the collection of machinery claiming the whole other half of the space.  It was almost like a mini-factory of some kind, long abandoned, judging from the plethora of grimy cobwebs coating every nook and cranny. 

Hitching her Avon bag higher on her shoulder, Dawn gazed around in wonder and slight trepidation.  No one had answered her call and she was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. 

“Oh my…” 

As she backed up towards the staircase, she heard something.  A faint, metallic squeaking sound.  She whirled around just in time to see a shadow dart out of sight somewhere on the second floor landing.

“Hello?”

No one appeared at the top of the steps to welcome nor shun her, so Dawn hurried after her mysterious host.

“Hello?  I’m Dawn Edwards!  I’m your local Avon representative!  _Hello_?”

She jogged up the steps and around a corner leading to a short hallway that split off into three different paths.  The last one had another flight of stairs and she could smell clean, fresh air wafting from its source.  She chose to head on to the third floor. 

“I’m sorry to barge in like this, but you don’t have any reason to be afraid.  Whew!  This is some huge house isn’t it?  Thank goodness for that cheer…squad……”

Dawn trailed off as she came to a vacant attic-loft area.  There was a gigantic, splintered hole in the ancient worn roof, like there had been a cave in, but all the debris had been swept away some time ago. 

Looking around, she saw nothing else but a tall window lined by two black, floor-length curtains and a fireplace.       

A fireplace that wasn’t empty.

Drawing near, Dawn saw a crude bed of straw and burlap tucked between the anvils, littered with books and snipped papers.   A sort of tapestry hung up against the fire back.  Pinned to the tapestry was a collage of various book and newspaper clippings.  There was an old military medal, an article about a boy without hands reading with his eyes, a Polaroid of a waterfall, a magazine page depicting a modern furnished home, even a picture of St. Mary holding baby Jesus!          

But before she could inspect the rest, she heard that curious sound again and this time, it was closer.  She turned to her right and finally saw someone crouching under the slope of the roof in the far corner.

“Hello?  _Hello_?  Why are you hiding back there?”  She asked, stepping towards the strange figure.

Whoever it was rose to their full height; an impressive height of at least six foot seven.  It seemed to be a man and he had something in his hands. 

“You don’t have to hide from me.”  She assured him as he began slowly walking towards her.  “I’m Dawn Edwards, I’m your local Avon representative and I’m as harmless as cherry p-!”

Her voice flew away like a tiny bird once her brain managed to register just _what_ the silent man was holding in his hands.  Something shiny and sharp.  Like knives.

For the first time today, Dawn felt genuine, ice-cold fear.  This had been a _big_ mistake.       

“Oh, my.”  She gulped, feeling her panic rise as the man continued to steadily advance.  “I can see that I’ve disturbed you.  How stupid of me.  I’ll just be going now!”

Determined to stay calm and not flee like prey from a predator, she spun on her heel and-

“Dorn’t go.”

His slightly Scottish-accented plea was soft and timid, enough to give her pause.  Keeping her Avon bag lifted a bit, in case she needed last-minute protection, she regarded him again as he came into the light.

He was tall and thin enough to be considered wiry.  He was dressed in a kind of leathery, one-piece suit fastened together with straps and belt buckles.  His hair was short and black and in wild disarray atop his head.  He had a prominent nose and a severely defined jawline.  His skin was milky pale and covered in a countless number of nicks and scars, but his eyes were the loveliest shade of blue she had ever seen, and they stared at her with such acute sadness, like a wounded lamb.       

“Oh, my.  What _happened_ to you?”

“I’m no’ finished.”  He said, raising the knives at her.

“Oh!”  She cried out, startled.  “Put those down!  Don’t come any closer!  Just, _please_ -!

He obediently lowered his arms and stopped in his tracks.  He didn’t speak, he only stood stiffly in front of her.

She peered at him again and was beyond astonished to see that he actually wasn’t holding knives.  At least, not exactly.  Instead, his hands seemed to be _made_ of long, thick…… _scissors_.        

“Those are your _hands_?”  She breathed in disbelief.  “Those are your…”

“…”

“What happened to you?”  She repeated, wondering if maybe he’d been in an accident and those were some sort of crude prosthetics.

“…”

His… _fingers_ …twitched at his sides. 

“Where are your parents?”

“…”

“Your father?”

“…”

“Your mother?”

“She dinnea wake up.”

Dawn felt a wave of compassion well in her chest and she gave him a small, understanding nod.  Though it had happened when she was a baby, _she’d_ lost her mother too. 

“Are you alone?  Do you live up here all by yourself?”

“…”

“What happened to your face?”  Without thinking, she reached a hand out to his gaunt cheek.  “Hm.”

The man flinched in alarm.

“I won’t hurt you.”  She promised, wanting him to trust her.  “But at the very least, let me give you a good astringent and this will help to prevent infection.”

She smiled at him and bent to extract the bottle and a cotton ball from her Avon bag, making sure to select a brand that wouldn’t sting.  Once ready, she gently dabbed at his more fresh cuts.  She heard his barely audible inhale at the cold temperature, but he did not flinch again as he let her tend to his wounds.

“What’s your name?”

“Bog.”

“Bog?”

When she was finished playing nurse/cosmetologist, Dawn furrowed her brow as she gave Bog a brief, but hard, thoughtful glare.  Then she smirked and made an impulsive decision that was going to affect the lives of everyone around her. 

“I think you should just come home with me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Thank goodness they made it.  Dawn knew she’d probably have five minutes tops of quiet in the house before the phone started ringing off the hook.  Try to sell Avon and everyone clams up, but bring a stranger home and suddenly the nosy neighbors come flooding out of the woodwork. 

Figures.

For the most part, she wasn’t too concerned about it.  The majority of the housewives that were home at this time of the day would be spreading the word about the strange, pale man they’d seen in her car.  The only one she was really worried about was Aura ‘Sugar’ Plum.  The woman might be married, but it was common knowledge to everyone but her husband, George, that she was a shameless flirt to anything male and (hopefully) single.  Her poor, embarrassed father had been on the receiving end of her batting eyelashes and swaying hips on more than one occasion, but he had no interest in remarriage, dating, or even fooling around since Mom died.  Besides, for Aura, usually the more strange and exotic the better, and Bog certainly fit the bill. 

Well, Dawn was determined to do everything she could to protect him, and on a more positive note, he’d been just adorable on the drive home: eagerly looking around at everything with a happy grin.  He’d even pointed across the car at some neighborhood kids playing on a slip n’ slide, only to shrink back and apologize at her cry of surprise at suddenly having a scissor blade under her nose. 

“It’s alright, Bog.”  She’d told him.  “You have every right to be excited, so you go ahead and look.”

And look he did, so much so, he even bumped his head against the window as they passed Mr. Burton mowing his lawn.  He was alright, but he didn’t point anymore.

When they’d finally reached the house, she’d ushered him inside, anxious to avoid the prying eyes of the neighborhood, and assuring him that he could make himself right at home and have something to eat or drink if he was hungry.  You’d think she’d just taken him to the Taj Mahal, considering how silently pleased he seemed when she opened the door and let him step into her home with their off-white carpet and walls, flower-patterned couch, and boxed-in TV set.

“So, uh, this is the living room,” she began, figuring a tour would be best to start with, “and back there are the bedrooms.”

But Bog wasn’t paying attention to her gesturing down the hall.  She turned to see him eyeing the framed, family pictures they had on the shelf.    

“Oh, you wanna see the pictures?” She asked, stepping up beside him so she could identify each figure for him.  “Okay, uh, this is my Dad at last year’s bowling tournament.  He’s a champion.  Do you know what bowling is?”

At his blank stare, she made a half-hearted bowling mimic.

“You know, _bowling_?”

Nothing.

“Well anyway,” she continued, “his name is David.  He’s the mayor and he always enjoys meeting interesting people and he’s really nice; you’ll like him.  That’s my mom.  She passed away when I was three.  Isn’t she gorgeous, though?  Everybody says I look just like her.  There’s my best friend, Sunny when we went fishing last summer.  He looks a little bummed because we didn’t catch anything that time.”

She paused for a bit, feeling her heart flood with compassion for the friend she’d known since preschool. 

“He……lost his parents in a car accident six years ago, so he lives with us now.  You’ll see him tonight.”

Clearing her throat, she perked up for the last set of pictures. 

“And _here’s_ my big sister, Marianne, all dressed for her senior prom.  She’s a junior in college now, I still can’t believe it.  She’s on a camping trip with some friends, so you’ll meet her later.”

It might have been Dawn’s imagination, but it seemed that Bog’s eyes grew softer the more he gazed at the various pictures of her sister.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

His only answer was a tender smile. 

“Well, that’s my family.”  She sighed in contentment before resuming her tour.  “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house.  Then you can just relax and make yourself at home.  The kitchen’s over _there_.  You can help yourself to anything you want to eat or drink.”

Bog poked inquisitively at a bowl of plastic grapes they had sitting on the TV. 

“Those are grapes.” She said to get him to keep following her.  “And the bedrooms are back here.  I’ll get you some towels and I’ll see what I can find for you to wear.” 

They stood in the hallway while she rifled through the linen closet for the aforementioned guest towels and Bog stared curiously at the smoke alarm.

“You know, I think we actually have some of my dad’s old clothes in here.  He was never as tall as you, so they might be little short, but I can let the hem out.  Here we go!”

She handed him a folded pair of pants and a white Oxford shirt. 

“These will be perfect!”    

* _RING~RING*_

“Oh!”  She gasped when Bog flinched at the unfamiliar sound.  It looked like the neighbors were ready. 

“Don’t worry, Boggy, that’s just the phone.”  She took his arm and quickly led him down the hall.  “Now you can go in Marianne’s room and change.  I’ll be right back!”

While Bog obediently headed into her sister’s room, Dawn hurried into her dad’s bedroom, where the extension was located, mentally bracing herself for the deluge of questions.      

     

* * *

 

 

“No, he has scissors.  _Scissors_.” She explained after what seemed like an hour, making a snipping gesture with her middle and pointer fingers.  “That’s right……Well, I guess he was… _born_ up there or…something……No ma’am, I don’t think he’s ever been away from that house before today…….Maybe, but I highly doubt it.  Dad always taught Marianne and I to be kind to people and he needed help……I-I gotta go Mrs. Ruby.  I’ll talk to you later, okay?  Bye!”

Hanging up, she released a breath of relief and stood up to check on Bog.  Free at last!  

_*RING~RING*_

Huffing, Dawn reached over and switched the phone setting so all calls would go right to the answering machine.  Now maybe they could get some peace for the rest of the day.

“Sorry, Bog, I di-!” She stopped short upon seeing that he’d managed to get her dad’s old pants on, but was struggling to work his way through the shirt. “Oh, may I help you with this?”

“Thank ye.”

Almost giggling, she pulled the collar of the shirt down to his neck, revealing his sharp face…and a fresh scratch. 

“Uh-oh, you’ve cut your face.”  She snatched a tissue from the box on her sister’s vanity.  “Here let me get this cleaned up.  Does that hurt?”

“No.”  He replied as she gently wiped away the blood.

“No?  That’s good.” She said, glad to know he wasn’t in any pain as she tossed the soiled tissue in the wastebasket and went on helping him with the clothes.  “Okay then, let’s finish getting you dressed.  There…we…go.  Very nice!”

After she fetched a pair of suspenders, for some extra aesthetic, she opened her sister’s closet door so he could see himself in the full-length mirror hung on the back.  She definitely would have to let the hem out in the pants and the clothes were a touch baggy since he was so skinny, but overall, she was quite proud of her job.  She felt like a mother about to send her child off on his first day of school.     

“You look fine, just fine.”

He must’ve wanted to tug at the suspenders like one of those fat cats she sometimes saw on TV, but the second his ‘fingers’ closed around the strips of brown fabric, he sliced clean through them.  

“Oops.”

Lucky she just happened to have tons of safety pins in the house.  With Bog living here now, there was no doubt that her nurse, cosmetic and seamstress skills were going to get a real workout.

A few minutes later, she’d fixed his suspenders and was finishing up sewing on a shirt button that had already been loose.

“Now, where did I put my scissor-……um, Bog?  Would you mind?”

She held up the thread and Bog snipped it off with perfect ease. 

“Thanks.  You know, Boggy?  My dad might know a doctor friend that could help you.”

“Really?”

“Sure.  He knows everybody in town.  Now _I_ can help with these scars,” she brushed his unruly, black bangs away from his face, “but I wanna make sure I consult the big Avon handbook first."   

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the late afternoon passed by with relative calm, though Dawn did her best to keep Bog away from the windows.  She could hear the neighbors chatting away out on the sidewalk; watching her house like hawks.  That’s why she was equal parts grateful and nervous when she heard the tell-tale sound of car engines coming down the streets.  The working husbands were home. 

Sunny had choir practice afterschool, so her dad would normally pick him up on his way home.  To think, this incredible turn of events never would’ve happened if Dawn hadn’t chosen to skip study hall so she could get in more hours selling her Avon supplies. 

The double thump of her dad’s car doors slamming shut and the sound of two sets of footsteps and voices approaching the front door, made Dawn’s heart-rate pick up speed.  She had no fear of her dad or Sunny wanting to cast Bog out, but regardless, what they were about to hear and _see_ would be a lot to swallow before dinner.    

Time to face the music.         


	3. Chapter 3

Well, dinner was certainly… _something_.  Bar none, the most interesting; though the last time David had seen anything even _close_ to the strange, silent man sitting on the other side of the table, it was 1967 and he and his wife had taken LSD at a concert.  Honestly, Bog looked like he’d walked straight out of an animated Pink Floyd music video.

He about had a heart attack when Bog came shyly creeping out of the hallway after Dawn had told him and Sunny just what she’d been up to this afternoon.  Honestly, he’d thought she’d been pulling his leg; an unfair assumption, considering how Dawn wasn’t prone to wild stories. 

So now here he was, after a half hour of Dawn anxiously insisting that they were not under attack by a knife wielding mental patient, watching their… _guest_ continuously try and fail to pick up a fork, all the while almost completely ignoring his own plate.

Not that he was upset about Dawn’s decision to bring the poor man home with her.  He definitely would’ve done the same thing, having too much compassion to let someone go on living in an unhealthy and dreary environment. 

He had to admit though, he was intrigued.  There’d always been rumors about that old house, but they’d been about a crazy inventor.  Dawn had mentioned that Bog said his mother had died.  So, was this man really her son or her…creation?  Either way, it was an astounding discovery!   

What surprised him even further, was by how much he was at a loss for words.  In his lifetime, he’d studied and traveled enough to hold a substantial conversation with someone as close as next door or as far away as several continents.  But a hermit with scissors for hands, shut away in a spooky, decrepit mansion?  He didn’t have a clue where to begin. 

Luckily, it was turning out to be one of those days where he was extra grateful for his youngest daughter, for she was making a valiant effort to lead the conversation, even if she was having some trouble with Sunny, who hadn’t stopped gaping since the second he laid eyes on Bog.   

“Sunny!”

“…”

“Sunny,” Dawn hissed again, “it’s not polite to stare!”

“…”

“Sunny, think how it would feel if someone were staring at you!”

“I’m used to it, cuz I’m so short.  I wouldn’t care.”

“Well, _I_ would!  So, please don’t do it!” 

It was rather comical how David himself was staring just as much as Sunny, if not more so, but Dawn wouldn’t dare scold her father.

“Well this must-this must be quite a change for you, right Boggy?”  Dawn suddenly asked, trying to break the awkward tension.

Bog didn’t answer.

“Bog, sweetie.”  David corrected.  If there was one thing he’d made a point to teach his daughters, it was to be polite when they addressed others.  “I think he prefers Bog.”

“So, what have you been doing with yourself in that big old place?”  Dawn pressed.

“Yeah,” Sunny joined in, “I bet the view must be spectacular, huh Boggy?” 

“Bog!”

This time, Bog’s head lifted.

“Aye?”

“Oh!”  David spluttered, mouthful of roast beef.  “No, I-I…just…”

“See all the way to the ocean I bet, huh?”  Sunny jumped in, oblivious to the miscommunication. 

“Sometimes.”  Bog replied, as soft and shy as a goldfish. 

“Dad, pass the salt and pepper, please?”

David didn’t hear her, he was too preoccupied with watching Bog try to balance a single pea on the tips of his finger…blades so he could finally eat.

“Dad?”  Dawn repeated.  “Could I have the salt and pepper?”

The blades slipped and the pea vanished.

“Mm!  Sure…here you go, sweetheart.”

“Thank you…….Sunny!”

“…”

“ _Sunny_!”

“……Those things are cool.”  The teen boy said, pointing at Bog’s hands.  “You know, I bet they’re razor sharp!  One karate chop to a guy’s neck-!”

“Sunny!”  Dawn shook her head at her friend before addressing Bog and holding out the butter plate to him.  “Bog, would you like some butter for your bread?”

By this time, Bog had figured out that he could skewer his food and currently had a carrot on the point of his ring finger-blade.  With his forefinger-blade, he sliced a tiny amount of butter from the stick and clumsily began applying it to his bread.

Well, it was progress, David supposed.

“Great!”  Dawn praised.

“Thank ye.”

“…Hey, we should bring him to science class on Monday!”

“Sunny, _enough_!” 

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, once he and Sunny had hunted down a pair of old green pajamas, David watched from the doorway as his daughter tucked Bog into Marianne’s bed.  He shook away the uncomfortable visions of the future the motherly display aroused. 

“Do you think you can sleep?”  She asked the pale man as she drew the covers up to his elbows.  With those hands, Bog could do little but set them up on top of his chest like a begging dog.  

Bog nodded at her.

“I know things seem a little strange right now, but you’ll feel right at home soon, I promise.”

He only smiled.

 _Harmless as a lamb._ David thought, shaking his head in amazement and shuffling off down the hall to his own room.

“Goodnight!”  Dawn cheerfully said, stepping away from the bed and heading for the door.

“Goodni-” Bog was cut off by surprise at the weird, wavy motion underneath him.

Dawn had already left.

No one seemed to remember that Marianne’s mattress was a waterbed.  

 

* * *

 

The next morning was Saturday, and Dawn had taken Bog downstairs to the basement to begin work on making his cuts less noticeable.  She’d gotten out all her Avon supplies and had them scattered over the washer and dryer and a small folding table. 

Bog sat patiently on a stool in front of her, with a red clip pulling back his wild hair.

Pushing her bangs back with a headband, Dawn scanned over his gaunt face, trying to determine where best to begin. 

“The light concealing cream goes on first…”  She mumbled, reciting the handbook’s instructions, as she dabbed at Bog’s scars with a make-up wedge, “…then you blend and blend and blend.  Blending is the secret…mm-hm.”

“…”

“…More concealing cream.”

“…”

“…but you’re complexion is so fair…” she observed, turning to her table and grabbing a purplish bottle so she could tip a dollop onto a fresh wedge, “…that _this_ has a touch of lavender in it.”

Bog remained silent, but a tiny smile touched his lips.  He rather liked the color.

“Let’s give it a try here.”  Dawn whispered in concentration, blotting the darker concealing cream over every inch of Bog’s cheeks, chin, nose, and forehead.  “Close enough!”

“…”

“Okay…this should do the trick.”

“…”

Rather suddenly, Dawn stopped what she was doing and cocked her head at her subject.  Now that his whole face was tinted purple, he looked pretty ridiculous.

“Hmph!”

Bog’s smile fell.

“I have a better idea!”  Dawn exclaimed, snatching a jar of some odd oatmeal-colored paste and an applicator stick.  “We’ll cover up the scars and start with a completely smooth surface!”

She stirred the mix and tried to spread it evenly over Bog’s skin like frosting over a cake, but the substance seemed to be more chunky and sticky than she’d expected.  Several times, she almost smacked Bog with the stick to get the goo off.

“Darn this stuff!” 

 

* * *

 

In the afternoon, when Bog had finally been released from beauty school so Dawn could make lunch, the boys were all outside, listening to the ballgame on Sunny’s radio.  His friend Pare had come by, and after dealing with an hour of his shock an awe of Bog, the two teens were taking advantage of the nice weather by sitting up in the old treehouse, while David trimmed the bushes at a snail’s pace, far more interested in the sport he was trying to listen to rather than his chore.

Bog milled aimlessly around the fence, but when he caught sight of Mr. Edwards clipping a few branches, he copied him by snipping off some wayward leaves sticking out of the shrub on his end of the yard.

“Turn it up, Sunny!”  David called.  “I can’t hear it!”

The boy did as he was told, but there was a peculiar sort of continuous background noise preventing David from hearing as well as he’d like.

“Sunny?”

Bog had quit watching Mr. Edwards and was now absorbed in his task, focusing on his numerous memories of the pictures he’s seen in books and magazines.

“YEAH!”  The teens cheered and fist-pumped when the announcer described a hit out of the park.

“Did ya hear that, Mr. Edwards?!”  Pare yelled.

“No, make it louder!”

Sunny again, raised the volume, but before he could sit back, he caught sight of just what Bog was doing.

“Mr. Edwards!”

David’s eyes met his and Sunny pointed.

“Look!”

Turning, David froze when he saw what Bog had created from nothing more than a huge, misshapen bush.

“I’ll be darned.”

The crowd on the radio roared in triumph as Bog stepped back from a brand new topiary, the shape of a tyrannosaurus rex.  

 

* * *

 

At the same time, Dawn was in the house checking the messages, since her dad refused to answer the phone on the weekends.  Not that any of the nosy housewives around here would want to talk to him.  His daughters were their best bet at getting any information, though Marianne had no patience for them.  Dawn at least, tried to be polite and obliging. 

When she pressed the rewind button, she was stunned to hear the muted squeaking of the reversing tape go on and on.

“They filled the whole thing!”  She marveled to herself, peering at the machine in wonder.

*BEEP*

The first message was from Mrs. Ruby:

~ _What’s going on over there, Dawn?  Call me!~_

*BEEP*

The next was from Mrs. Horn:

_~Hi, it’s Marge.  Who is he?  Call me!  Oh, by the way, it’s pouring rain in the mountains.  You think your sister’s okay?~_

*BEEP*

_~HEY THERE, DARLIN’!-_

Dawn flinched at the voice.  That could only be Mrs. Aura Plum.

_-the gals are all in a tizzy about your secret visitor.  You can’t keep him a secret foreveeeeer!~_

*BEEP*

 _Well, I can try my best, you cougar._ Dawn thought with a grin as the next message started. 

 

* * *

 

Around six o’ clock, David was relaxing in a lawn chair, drinking beer and watching bowling on his portable television with Sunny, while still keeping an eye on Bog, who had been given free rein to do what he wanted to all the bushes in the backyard.

Perhaps he was taking advantage of the man, but if Bog enjoyed the work and was making things far more beautiful than David could ever dream to, what was the big deal?

“Well, it’s just wonderful, Bog.”  He said, noticing Bog’s latest work.  “You’ve got the whole family there, don’t you?”

Indeed he had.  Two girl figures, a tall, stout male, and a shorter boy. 

Bog stepped back to admire his portrait, but then focused his attention on his hands, which seemed to be growing annoyingly sticky from cutting so much foliage.

“C’mere, Bog.”  Sunny instructed, jumping up and turning on the hose.

“No, no, no!”  David cried, glancing over just in time to see the water pouring over the blades.  “That’s a terrible idea, Sunny!  Go get the oil can out of the garage.  We don’t want him rusting up on us.”

_Like the damn Tinman!_

“Hey, Dawn!”  Sunny greeted as he ran past her for the garage.  “Look what Bog did!”

When Dawn came around the corner, her jaw dropped in delight.

“Bog, you did _us_?  Oh, daddy, look!  It’s _us_!”

“It certainly is.”

“Oh, Bog!”  She gushed, rubbing his arm.  “You’re so _sweet_!”

“It’s not heaven he’s from!”  A new voice declared.  “It’s straight from the deep, stinking pits of hell!”

Whirling around, Dawn bit back a groan as Ms. Fleason crept into their yard through the open gate, eyeing Bog as if he were a rattle snake.  The lady was the very definition of a religious nut.  She couldn’t even sell her Avon products to her because make-up was for “the devil’s harlots”.

“The power of Satan is in him; I can feel it!  Can’t _you_ , or have you sheep strayed so far from the path?”

“We’re no’ sheep.”  Bog said, walking curiously towards her.

Thankfully, that was enough for Mrs. Fleason to back away.

“Don’t come near me!”  She warned and fled.  

“That’s right,” David muttered as soon as she was gone, “go on!  Get outta here!  Go!”

Dawn bit her lip at Bog’s bewildered expression, but before she could comfort him, the doorbell rang.

“Oh Boggy,” she shouted over her shoulder as she hurried to answer it, “don’t you listen to her!”

“Don’t worry about her, Bog.”  David shrugged dismissively.  “She’s just an old looney that’s all.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

When Dawn threw open the front door, it took all she had not to yelp in alarm at the unexpected sight of not one, not a few, but ALL of the neighborhood housewives standing on the porch, chorusing an overly-cheerful greeting.

“ _HIIIIIII_!!!”

“You all are hidin’ in there like a bunch of old hermit crabs!”  Mrs. Plum teased, sporting a white dress with a caricature print on the front that made her look like a blue mermaid donning a lei of pink primroses. 

Dawn noted with some amusement, that she had her perfectly manicured hands braced against the doorframe in front of the crowd.  She just _had_ to be the center of attention _and_ the first to call dibs on anything that piqued her interest.

“Hey… _everyone_ , h-hello!”  Dawn awkwardly said, twisting the hem of her skirt in her hands.

“Shame on you for keeping your unusual guest all to yourself!”  Plum playfully scolded.  “Now, we think that’s mighty selfish of you, young lady!”

“Oh, n-no!  It’s just that, uh…things have……been a little hectic around here, that’s all!”

“Aw, how _sweet_ of you to want to correct the situation!  So, when _is_ the barbecue?”

Dawn’s stomach dropped.

“B-barbecue?”

“Well you intend to introduce your guest to your _neighbors_ , don’t you, dear?”

“Um…”

“I’ll bring coleslaw!”  Mrs. Ruby shouted, and was followed by a short cacophony of other promised dishes from the rest of the ladies. 

“And _I_ will bring the fuchsia salad!”  Plum concluded, making sure to speak over everyone else.

Did she _always_ have to sound like a madam? 

“What time did you say, darlin’?”

Starting to feel a touch overwhelmed, Dawn chewed her lip and struggled to think straight.  For crying out loud, her _dad_ was the politician!  Why did _she_ or Marianne always have to deal with these kinds of things?

 _You brought him home, so he’s YOUR responsibility!_ Her inner voice chided, which sounded oddly like her father, come to think of it.

“Ah, what time…uh…”

“About five?”

“Oh yes, Dawn!  Five would be great!”

“That’s perfect for me!”

“I, um-”

“He has been sent forth to tempt you!”  Came the abrupt and stern voice of Mrs. Fleason from across the lawn, and though Dawn was grateful for the hush that befell everyone, her skin prickled with dread.  “But it’s not too late!  You must push him from you; _expel_ him!  Trample down the perversion of nature!”

“Oh, did you hear that?”  Plum laughed.  “He’s a perversion of nature!”

Her humor then melted into a sultry purr.

“Why, isn’t that _excitin’_?”

Dawn frowned, not appreciating her implication, as the rest of the ladies tittered amongst themselves.

Offended that her sermon had (once again) failed to affect anyone, Mrs. Fleason stormed away to her house down the street, and thankfully, the rest of the neighbors followed her example, but in a friendlier manner.

“See you later, sweetheart!”

“Bye, Dawn!”

“Take care!”

“Say hello to you father for us!”

Dawn waved them all off and almost collapsed against the door when it was finally closed.  Oh, boy.  They had a _lot_ to do!

“DAD!  _DADDY_!!!” 

 

* * *

 

After much deliberation, the plans for the barbecue were set, and on the next Saturday morning, Dawn and Bog were in the kitchen preparing the food while David and Sunny were outside, straightening up the yard and cleaning the grill. 

It had been a crazy week; constantly dodging neighbors and probing questions in class, or at work in David’s case, and almost having to keep the damn phone off the hook.  Luckily, even with Marianne out of town, living around the block from the high school and having one member of the family as the mayor, left everyone with enough control over their schedules so that at least _one_ person could be at home with Bog at a time.  They’d all agreed, as a family, that until they saw how things went at the barbecue, they would hold off on any public outings with their new housemate, and even if he _had_ lived alone for God knew how many years, Dawn was not at all comfortable with him being all by himself, in a strange house, when anything could happen with those hands of his. 

To distract her from her concerns about the approaching afternoon, Dawn chatted away as Bog worked on cutting up the head of lettuce she’d set before him a few minutes earlier.

“You can _never_ have a barbecue without deviled eggs!  They’re such a great, easy treat, and I like to put bacon in-” she cut herself off upon turning around and seeing Bog’s progress.  “Oh my _goodness_!  Bog, I didn’t know you’d chopped the whole thing!  That’s _awesome_!”

Giggling, she rushed to grab a large bowl and scoop up the mountain of green shreds.  They’d certainly have plenty of salad for today! 

Smiling distractedly at her glee, Bog moved his hands away to give her a safe amount of room, but in his satisfaction at helping, one blade began to wander too close.

“You’re such a sweetheart, Boggy!  I really apprecia-!”

A sharp gasp from her friend stopped her, and she looked up to see a fresh red cut across Bog’s jaw. 

“Uh, oh!”  Dawn cried, moving quickly for a paper towel.  “It’s okay, Bog, it’s just a nick.  I’ll get it!”

Gently, she pressed the cloth to his skin and wiped away the blood, but when she caught sight of the apprehension on Bog’s face, her heart clenched with sympathy.  She knew he wasn’t in any real pain, but she wondered if there was another reason behind his sudden fear.

“There’s no need to be nervous, Bog.”  She murmured, and for the first time since the date had been set, _she_ felt the truth of the statement.  “Mrs. Fleason _won’t_ be there, and the rest of the neighbors are really very nice people.  So, don’t worry about a thing...cuz every little thing is gonna be alright.  That’s what Sunny always says!  He's a huge Bob Marley fan!”

Tossing the stained napkin into the trash, she gave Bog a reassuring grin and picked up a can of her favorite beans. 

“You know, they’re so eager to meet you!”  She added, setting the can into the automatic can opener.  “You just have to be yourself.”

“Myself?”

“Yep!  Just your own, cute self!”

With that, she switched on the innocent kitchen appliance and the whir ended their conversation, but Dawn was blissfully unaware of the trance-like stillness that was suddenly gripping Bog as he watched the slowly turning can.  By the time she _did_ notice it, he wandered away and out the backdoor before she could comment.    

 

* * *

 

_Such a simple thing, yet the memories it had triggered were immense, and they all revolved around one person.  A brilliant, firecracker of a woman with a squat stature and a mane of wild white hair that was once auburn.  His mother, Griselda._

_Not biological, of course.  Technically, she was his inventor.  Not just his, though he was unique; inventing was her passion._

_He remembered all of her machines: The can opener large enough to open drums of dough and frosting.  The cookie assembly line with the automatic egg cracker, mixer, rolling pin, cookie cutters that resembled dancing men, and the oven that looked like it came straight out of Hansel and Gretel’s fairy tale.  And the vegetable cutter......with his hands._

_All of her robots were deliberately humanoid in at least face if not entire form, perhaps in an attempt to make up for her loneliness.  Growing up as a short woman with a genius intellect and a knack for ‘the man’s study’ of engineering in the thirties, was a deadly combination, at least socially.  Financially, she could want for nothing._

_But she soon grew sick of people either criticizing or patronizing her, and made the decision to buy a large, Gothic manor, secluded on top of a hill.  There, she built her own world of mechanical wonders; selling her food and other various inventions anonymously over the decades.  She watched the valley below develop into a modern suburbia, but never made any attempt to contact her neighbors.  By then, she’d long been comfortable with the solitude._

_Still, every once in a while, in her golden years, she yearned to hear another voice that wasn’t her own, to see a kind face that would never sneer or roll its eyes at her.  She’d always wanted a child, a dream she’d almost completely forgotten since college, but one day, she’d looked at that lonely vegetable cutter and was inspired to build a young man, a son, with a heart as soft and sweet as a cookie._

 

* * *

 

 _S_ _o far so good._   Dawn thought, half an hour into the barbecue. 

All of the neighbors seemed totally fascinated and charmed by Bog, and he looked pretty happy too, despite the occasional confused frown whenever somebody said something he didn’t understand.    

“Hey, Bog!”  Pare called, running up with Sunny at his side.

Case in point…

“Play Rock, Paper, Scissors with us!”

“What?”

Sunny chuckled at the blatant puzzlement on Bog’s face and patted his bony shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Bog.”  He said, leading his friend away.  “I’ll teach you later!”

Dawn shook her head in amusement and went back to making her way around the yard with her snack tray.  She tried her best to stay at least within earshot of Bog at all times, but unfortunately, being the daughter of an elected official meant that she couldn’t afford to be rude and neglect her father’s guests, _especially_ when Marianne wasn’t here; but perhaps, that was a blessing, since Marianne _detested_ socializing with anyone other than her small group of friends and family. 

Mrs. Plum had yet to arrive, so Dawn felt a tad more comfortable leaving Bog on his own for a minute or two, but she really wished the men would stop asking him to open their stupid beer cans for them!  Honestly!  And at least _four_ different people had already pulled Bog aside to tell him about doctors that might be able to help him.

Thankfully, Bog never looked upset by the requests and advice, no matter how inane or tactless they might be, so Dawn was able to genuinely beam with pride for him and chat amiably with the neighbors about his lovely topiaries and answer any questions they had.

When Mr. and Mrs. Plum finally _did_ join the party, Dawn and Sunny’s eyes met across the yard with mutual concern.  Even Sunny had been on the receiving end of Plum’s not-so-innocent flirtations a few times, and to this day, she gave him the willies.

Both Dawn and her best friend kept their eyes peeled on the couple and edged closer in Bog’s direction, ready to intercept if need be.  Mr. Plum, ever the loud, friendly, idiot-salesman, strolled right up to Bog and stuck out his hand without thinking. 

“Hey, George Plu-WOAH!”  The gesture was snatched back when Bog automatically extended _his_ razor blade fingers.  “Heh, that’s a heck of a handshake ya got there, Boggy.”

And just like that, Mr. Plum’s rodent-like attention span shifted gears, and he hurried away, calling out to one of his golf buddies as he went.

 _Well, that could’ve gone worse._ Dawn guessed, and though she and Sunny watched Mrs. Plum with tension in every muscle, they were staunchly surprised that not only had she hung back during her husband’s encounter with Bog, she actually moved away with her fuchsia salad to the buffet table, and _stayed_ there with a small group of mingling housewives. She hadn’t even taken Bog’s polite smile as an invitation to introduce herself!

Unheard of, perhaps, but the two teenagers still saw the steadfast, predatory glint in that all-too-familiar stare of hers.  Of course, she was _very_ interested; and the wheels were turning in that dolled up of head of hers!  

A wave of protectiveness flooded Dawn’s chest, and she rushed to Bog’s side.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded.

“Are you hungry?”

Another nod. 

“Want a deviled egg?”

Three for three.

While she fed him her special recipe, she made a silent promise in her head.

_We won’t let anything happen to you, Bog._

She glanced at Sunny over by the garage and he winked at her, as if in telepathic agreement.  Sometimes, when he did that, she got a funny, fluttering in her chest.  

 

* * *

 

Eventually, Dawn was forced to go indoors to replenish some things, but not before making sure Sunny had taken her place by Bog’s elbow.  She was about to return to the barbecue, when she picked up on some hushed voices just below the open kitchen window.

“…different; _completely_ different!”

“No kidding!”

“He’s so…”

“ _Mysterious_.”  _That_ was definitely Plum’s voice.  “Do you imagine those hands are hot or cold?”

Dawn scowled as the other ladies snickered and snorted at the woman’s train of thought.

“And just think what a single snip could do.”

_What?!_

“Or _un_ do!”  Mrs. Verbena joked.

Dawn’s hands curled into fists on the counter-top as the housewives all laughed amongst themselves.  There were moments when she really dreaded the reality of becoming an adult. 

 

* * *

 

While Dawn busied herself inside, Sunny and Bog worked together making shish kebab over the grill.  Since they had no skewers, Mr. Edwards had suggested using Bog’s fingers instead.  The teen had winced, but Bog was perpetually eager to help, and had already stabbed a few of the meat chunks before Sunny had even lit the charcoal. 

At one point, Sunny was seasoning the food when he and Bog were joined by old Mr. Burton.  A generally easy-going man that just suffered from the occasional lack of a verbal filter due to being both over sixty _and_ a war veteran.   

“I have my own infirmity.”  He mumbled to Bog.  “Never did me a bit of harm.  Took some shrapnel during the war, and ever since then I can’t feel a thing.  Not a damn thing!”

He rapped his knuckles against his prosthetic left leg, making a hollow ‘tok-tok’ sound. 

“Listen, don’t you ever let anybody tell you that you’ve got a handicap.”

“ _Who’s_ handicapped?”  A sickeningly, sweet voice cooed, and Sunny’s spine stiffened as Sugar Plum sashayed around Mr. Burton and right up to Bog’s side.

Dammit!  The woman knew just when to strike!  Sunny couldn’t lead Bog away from the grill, and he was too flustered to think of anything to say to distract her.  All he could do was stand there, helplessly as Plum worked her flirtatious skills on an entirely oblivious Bog.

“My goodness!  Don’t be _ridiculous_ , you’re not handicapped.  You’re…”  She paused and tilted her head at him with a faraway look in her cerulean eyes.  “What do they call the…exceptional?”

Chuckling to herself, she stepped closer with a bright smile.

“My name is Aura Plum, but _you_ can call me Sugar, and I noticed that you have not tasted any of my fuchsia salad that I made _especially_ for _you_.  Allow me.”

Sunny hid a grimace as Mrs. Plum scooped a _huge_ helping of that nasty, pink stuff into a spoon and fed it to Bog.  Seriously, _why_ did she always make that slop?  Nobody liked it!  Yet, the weird thing was, people wouldn't stop eating it either.

“Mm!”  Bog hummed appreciatively, but Sunny could tell from the slight pinch at the corner of his eyes that he was just being courteous.

Still, it was as if someone had sprinkled blood into a shark tank, for the next thing Sunny knew, he and Bog were being surrounded by _all_ the middle-aged housewives on the block, insisting that the latter try their dishes and come over for a visit sometime.

Sunny felt like his five foot three body was drowning in a pool of floral print and excessive perfume, and he actually had to grab onto Bog’s pant leg to keep from being nudged aside, but the worst was yet to come.  A cold sweat broke out over his skin when he heard Plum’s voice over the crowd of females. 

“I’m sorry ladies, but he’s promised to come to _my_ house, _first_!  Haven’t you, Boggy?”

“Mm-hmm?” 

Even though it sounded as if Bog had only been half-listening to her, Plum took it as an affirmative; the damage was done, and Sunny’s brain was kicked into panic-mode. 

_What?!  No!  Crap, crap, crap!!!  Dawn’s gonna KILL me!  We can’t let Bog go over there, alone!  What am I gonna do?!_

His mental rant was interrupted by Mr. Edwards cheerfully announcing to the guests that it was time to eat.

“Okay, everybody!  Grab your plates!”  He shouted, lifting up Bog’s arms so everyone could see the sizzling food.  “Soup’s on!”

“Ah shosh sish wah shishabub.”  Bog said to him with a mouthful of the various treats he’d been given.

“Huh?”

“I thuh thish was shishabob.”

“Oh.  Yes, it is shish kebab, Bog.  It was a figure of speech.”  Mr. Edwards explained patiently, releasing Bog so he could carefully extract the cooked meat and vegetables from the taller man’s fingers with a pair of tongs.  “You gotta learn not to take things so literally.” 

Satisfied that Bog was safe with his foster father, for the time being, Sunny booked it into the house to let Dawn know what had happened.


	5. Chapter 5

_It wasn’t long after Griselda had begun her project that all her machines were turned off of mass production, and instead only used to make meals for herself and her companion.  After all, what use did she have for more money?  She had more than she could possibly hope to exhaust in her few remaining years.  A fortunate fact, since some of the supplies she needed to achieve her goal were impossible to make from scratch with her bare, and increasingly arthritic hands.  So a few expensive purchases were necessary, on occasion.  Her work space was cluttered with books and tools, and there was a large sketch pad with countless scribbled notes surrounding the image of the vegetable cutter turning step-by-step into the young man she’d envisioned._

_In her down time from assembling, she dedicated herself to his education, because she’d be damned if her creation was going to be some uncivilized, ruffian.  Books of etiquette were tedious, but necessary._

_“Alright, let’s pretend that we’re in the drawing room and the hostess is serving tea.  Lots of numerous little questions confront us.  Should the man rise when he accepts his cup of tea?  May lump sugar be taken with the fingers?  No.  Is it good form to accept a second cup?  Should the napkin be entirely unfolded or should the center crease be allowed to remain?  It’s so easy to commit embarrassing blunders, but etiquette tells us what’s expected of us and guards us from all humiliation and discomfort.”_

_She paused and gazed at her prodigy.  She’d named him Bog, after the delightful marshland that had grown behind her childhood home and served as her private playground, and at this particular moment, he was about half-way complete._

_His legs lay across the table before him, waiting to be attached, but from the torso up, he was fully functional.   His vision and hearing were optimal, the motor functions were a bit stiff and twitchy at times, and though he didn’t speak much, his vocabulary was growing and his eyes were always wide with curiosity and wonder.  He was an eager and fast learner, but shy as a fawn.  Still, Griselda could understand his unusually blank stare after that passage._

_“Mm…yes.”  She sighed with an indulgent smile and closed the tome.  “Boring. Let’s switch to some poetry, hm?”_

_She picked up a much smaller text and opened to a selection she thought he might enjoy._

_"’There was an old man from the Cape, who made himself garments of crepe. When asked: will they tear? He replied: Here and there, but they keep such a beautiful shape!’"_

_She chuckled and watched with fascination and pride as a tiny flicker of humor touched Bog’s lips._

_“That's right.”  She encouraged, as his cheeks struggled to lift.  “Go ahead, smile; it's funny!”_

_And Bog’s mouth succeeded in pulling into a tad awkward, but big grin for the very first time._

_“That's right, dear!  Very good!”_  

 

* * *

 

It was just after midnight and a lone pair of headlights were coasting down the deserted block.  They belonged to a large, navy blue van that stopped in the middle of a cross-intersection; the most convenient spot to drop off some of its passengers.  The side door slid open and an empty beer can slipped out and clattered loudly against the asphalt.     

“SHH!”  Several voices hissed, as a few of their owners stepped out of the idling vehicle. 

“Finally, we’re home!”

“I can’t believe everything’s still soggy!”

“I can hardly wait to take a shower and wash off the mildew.”

“Or sleep in a bed with a pillow?”

There were eight college students in total, four boys and four girls.  One couple, sat waiting in the driver and passenger seat, while three others gathered their belongings from the rest of their friends in the back. 

Of those three, one was a redhead, with a bright orange rain slicker wrapped around her slim frame, and a smudged, wan face.  The other girl was a brunette with wild, pixie-cut hair, wearing a purple jacket and jeans.  She was flanked by a handsome young man with golden blonde hair, a football star build, and a face like a Greek statue. 

“Well, if my parents have the alarm set, I’m screwed.”  He said to the second girl.  “I’ll have to sleep in the yard.  _Again_.”

“I _told_ you to call and tell them we were coming back early, Roland.”  She replied, rolling her eyes a bit at his melodrama.  Please, as if Danny, Derek, and Dylan wouldn’t let him crash at their place.

“That’s right, but _did_ you?”  One of the other boys, Danny, teased, but quickly ducked away from the look Roland shot in his direction.

“Nope, he’d rather complain!”  The girl in the passenger seat giggled, passing the brunette her portable radio through the open window.  

“How else am I supposed to be the center of attention, huh?”  Roland grinned playfully, but there was a touch of true arrogance in his tone. 

With all of her things in hand, the brunette walked over to the curb, but Roland was right on her heels.

“ _You_ didn’t call your dad.”

“ _He_ doesn’t run the house like a police state.”  She quipped with a smirk, before turning back to wave goodbye to her friends.  “Bye, you guys!  Thanks for driving!”

“Bye, Marianne!”

“See ya!”

The redhead said goodbye to everyone as well, and headed across the street to her own house.

Smooth as silk, Roland slipped his arm around Marianne’s neck and kissed her as soon as she turned back. 

“Bye.”  She said with a small smile once she pulled away, and coyly unhooked his arm.  “Don’t forget your arm.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Roland stared after her for a beat before hopping back into the van.

Marianne heaved a sigh of relief as she watched them all drive off down the street, and with each step she took towards her quiet house, she felt the tension she’d been carrying all week, leave her shoulders. 

She’d had a lot of fun with her friends.  Even the rain didn’t spoil the clean air and spectacular mountain views for her.  No, the only problem had been Roland.

It was no big deal, really.  Just that he’d been getting kind of…pushy lately about taking their relationship to the next level.  He was constantly touching her, whispering dirty things, and trying to turn every innocent peck into a tongue wrestling match; sometimes, even right in front of their friends!  It made her grateful that the whole girls in one tent, boys in the other, rule had been settled before they made the trip.      

She also knew that look in his eye and had a strong suspicion about _why_ he didn’t call his parents and complained so much about sleeping in his yard. 

He seemed to be trying to make any excuse possible in order to stay with her.  Even when he was invited over for dinner or something, he’d always hint to her, when they were out of her family’s earshot, about sneaking back in later.  To hell with that.  If she already felt uncomfortable, fooling around with her dad in the next room _definitely_ would _not_ help.

Sometimes, it also depressed her that she didn’t exactly have anyone to talk to about this.  Her little sister was too young and innocent (in her opinion) and her girlfriends Vi, Jade, and Sienna all thought she was nuts for not letting Roland ‘pop her 20-year-old cherry’ years ago.  He was her first and only boyfriend, they’d been together since high school, _and_ he was gorgeous.  So, what on earth was she waiting for?

…It……wasn’t that she didn’t… _want_ to…but it was a huge step for her, and…she just wasn’t sure if she was ready.  Honestly, she preferred to wait until they were done with college.  She was determined to get super good grades and graduate with honors, so she could get a substantial foot in the door for her desired career in international business, and all that sex stuff just seemed like an unnecessary distraction, for the time being.     

Plus, for the past year or two, she was gradually catching wind of some circulating rumors.  The kind that didn’t shed the best light on Roland’s fidelity to her.  She had yet to confront him about any of them, but they certainly made her more cautious about his charms, because nothing could kill a libido faster than distrust.

By the time Marianne had mulled all this over, she had already entered her silent home and was halfway down the dimly lit hallway.  She could hear the familiar sounds of her dad’s rhythmic snoring, and as she passed Sunny’s room, the carefully muted voice of Bob Marley.  He always loved falling asleep to the reggae singer. 

When she made it to her room, she was much too bushed to unpack, so she immediately dropped her things in a pile on the floor and switched on the tiny lamp on her vanity.  She toed off her ankle boots, shrugged out of her jacket, and pulled her deep rose blouse over her head, leaving her clad in her black wife-beater. 

As she undressed, she glanced up at a favorite piece of décor on her wall that made her give a rueful sigh.  It was a gladius sword bought by her mother many years ago.  Marianne loved it, and sometimes even practiced with it in the back yard.  It had sparked her fascination with similar weapons and had inspired her to take fencing lessons.  Roland didn’t approve of her so called, ‘un-ladylike activities and interests’.  Once or twice, he’d actually mentioned that she should get rid of her mother’s sword! 

Huffing, she turned to her vanity mirror and checked to see if the tiny red bump on her chin was a pimple or an ant bite, but in the middle of her inspection, her eyes caught sight of a pale, skeletal figure, with knives in its hands, staring at her from her bed behind her. 

The terrified scream that tore from Marianne’s throat was deafening, and it obviously startled the intruder, for he struggled to sit up on her unstable mattress and ended up stabbing the knives through the bed sheets and rubber lining, spraying water everywhere.

In a full panic, and still screaming bloody murder, Marianne seized her gladius sword from the wall rack and took a swing at the man, but to her horror, he brought the knives up and blocked the strike with a sharp, metallic clang and a flash of sparks.  He wasn’t _holding_ the knives, the knives _were_ his _hands_! 

Too freaked out to fight anymore at the realization, she shoved the man back with all her might and fled, nearly crashing into her dad and sister as they emerged from their rooms.

“GUYS!  THERE’S SOMETHING IN MY ROOM!  DAD, GO LOOK!  IT’S A KILLER AND HE HAS _KNIVES_!”

“Marianne!”  Dawn cried, grabbing at her arms.  “Marianne, it’s okay!”

“NO, HE TRIED TO _KILL_ ME!”

Sunny came trudging out of his room and Mr. Edwards yawned before gently turning the teen around and nudging him back the way he came.    

“DAD, GO LOOK!”  Marianne demanded, baffled at how everyone wasn’t taking her seriously.

“Listen to me,” Dawn pleaded, “it’s just-!”

Before she could finish, the sopping wet ‘killer’ came hurrying out of Marianne’s bedroom with his head down, like a naughty child.

“AAAHHH!  THERE HE IS!  OH MY GOD!”  Marianne shrieked, raising her sword again as he passed them.

“Marianne!”  Dawn clutched her sister’s wrists before she could lop Bog’s head off.  “Stop it!  Put that down!”

At Bog’s abrupt appearance, and the increased pitch of his eldest daughter’s yelling, Mr. Edwards finally woke up a bit more and spun on his heel to catch Bog by the shoulders and steer him into the bathroom as Dawn pulled her hysterical sister into the master bedroom. 

“Marianne, listen, his name his Bog, and he’s-”

“ _BOG_?!  WHAT ARE YOU _TALKING_ ABOUT?!”

“He’s going to live with us and-”

“DAWN, HE HAS _KNIVES_!”  Marianne suddenly broke down, more afraid then she’d ever been in her entire life.  Her sister comforted her as she sobbed.

“Oh, no, no, no!” 

 

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes later, the shouting and crying had ceased, and Bog was dried off and standing beside Mr. Edwards as he unfolded the queen-sized bed out of the couch in the basement.  David was far too drunk from the barbecue, tired, and frazzled by the whole fiasco to reflect on how they should’ve kept their guest down here in the first place.  He needed a drink, and judging from the slight tremble in Bog’s ram-rod form and the contrite expression on his face, he wasn’t the only one.

“What’s the matter, Bog?”  He asked, patting his back.  “Did she get ya nervous?”

There was no reply, not that David was expecting one, but he led Bog over to the dry bar in the corner anyway.

“You’ve been cloistered away up in that house for too long.  You don’t know a thing about the ‘wonderful’ world of women.  They’re all insane.” 

He sat Bog down on a stool, and poured two glasses of whiskey.

“Here ya go, son.  This’ll straighten you right out.”

Bog peered down at the amber liquid.

“What is it?” 

“Lemonade.”  David replied, shooting a nervous glance at the basement stairs.  He’d hate to have Dawn throw a fit about this, but really, Bog _was_ an adult and this stuff always soothed _his_ nerves just fine after a spook. 

“I don’t know what it is,” he muttered absently as Bog busied himself with attempting to pick up his tumbler, “but when they develop these glands, and their bodies swell up…poof!  They all go crazy.”

“Glands?”  Bog repeated, looking at him inquisitively.

“Yeah, I try not to think about it.” 

Had David been sober, he probably wouldn’t have been spouting such ridiculous nonsense, especially about his own daughters, but no one’s sensible at 1am, even _without_ alcohol in their system.  However, he _was_ sensible enough to notice Bog’s struggle, and he fished out a straw from the bar’s canister and placed in his drink.      

Bog took a deep, grateful sip that drained the glass, and gulped.  What followed was a sound like water moving through old, rusty pipes, and Bog slowly sat up with watery eyes, a strained face, and was shivering all over.    

David nodded at him.

“Good, isn’t it?” 

 

* * *

 

"Dawn, why did you have to bring him here?”  Marianne asked in an impatient whisper, as she and Dawn fixed up the bottom bunk in Sunny’s room that would have to serve as her sleeping arrangement until her room was fixed up.  Sunny himself had gone back to sleep, and even had one arm dangling over the side of his bed. 

“Well, I couldn’t just leave him up there all alone.”

“But why does he have to stay _here_?”

Honestly, the story she’d been told was just about the dumbest and most reckless thing Marianne had ever heard.  You don’t bring a creepy, freak with weapons for hands home like a stray kitten, for God’s sake!  Sure, she would’ve helped the guy out had she been in Dawn’s shoes, but she would’ve called a hospital or something, not opened her damn house to him!  She'd definitely have to keep a closer eye on Dawn from now on.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Marianne, I’m surprised at you!”  Dawn scolded as she tucked Sunny’s arm back into his blankets and turned his CD player off.  “He can’t help the way he is.  Have some sympathy!”

“I _do_ have sympathy, I just-!”

“Then let’s make things right.  Just come downstairs, introduce yourself, and shake his hand…”

“ _Shake_ his _hand_?”

“Well, not _literally_ ; but geez, you scared him half to death!”

“ _I_ scared _him_ to death?”

The sisters continued speaking to each other in hushed tones all the way to the basement, where Bog and their father were waiting.  Hearing their footsteps on the stairs, Mr. Edwards quickly cleared away the tumblers and whiskey bottle. 

“Hey, daddy.”  Dawn greeted brightly, guiding Marianne over to the bar, which Bog was sort of awkwardly slumped against.  “I thought you two should get a proper introduction:  Bog, this my sister, Marianne.  Marianne, this is Bog who’s going to live with us.”

Bog turned toward the girls, but his movements were sluggish and quivering.  In Mr. Edward's haste to hide the evidence of their drinking, he’d forgotten the straw.  It hung from Bog’s slack lips like a damp cigarette.  He made a strange grunting noise and stared at Marianne quite pathetically. 

“Hi.”  She deadpanned, wanting to be _anywhere_ else. 

He seemed to whine and shudder for a second, then tipped forward and fell right to the floor at her feet.    

 


	6. Chapter 6

Despite Dawn’s reservations, Sunny eventually _did_ manage to convince her to let him bring Bog to science class before the semester let out.  He’d coached Bog to do some ‘karate chop’ gestures on cue, which, apart from Dawn, snapped his school mates to attention every time.  For a grand finale, he even had Bog take a piece of folded red construction paper, and with a few rapid snips of his fingers, transform it into a garland of children holding hands.

It was a massive success, though Dawn could’ve done without some of the girls whispering in the hall about how a suddenly more popular Sunny was even cuter than he was before, but she couldn’t let herself get too concerned about it at the moment.  She had a more serious matter to concentrate on after the last bell.

Though she was certainly not pleased at Bog being roped into visiting Mrs. Plum, she didn’t blame Sunny.  Instead, she’d immediately formulated a plan to keep him supervised.  So, when Plum had called Sunday afternoon to confirm that Bog could come over on Wednesday at 4pm, Dawn invited herself to tag along, under the guise that Bog didn’t know his way around the neighborhood.  It wasn’t technically a lie, and despite Plum insisting in a somewhat tight voice that she’d be more than happy to pick Bog up and drop him off, Dawn was firm.

Sadly, there was an unprecedented flaw in her scheme.  It was the beginning of May, just two weeks before summer vacation, and all the April thunderstorms had brought the flowers…and a massive heat wave.  Dawn was a serious lightweight when it came to humid temperatures in the upper nineties, and halfway to Plum’s house, she was already dizzy and sweating.  With her fair skin, she was sure to get sunburn since there was not a cloud in the sky. 

So there she was, forced to sit indoors with a fan blowing in her face, watching Bog out the cracked kitchen window as he trimmed the hedges into a topiary of two swans kissing.  Sugar Plum was mixing pink lemonade, while her white shih tzu, Imp, yapped persistently at her feet.  Tom Jones' _It's Not Unusual_ blared on the radio. 

“Boggy!”  She sang in her signature flirtatious manner.  “You thirsty?”

Bog paused in his task and nodded.

“Imp,” Plum scolded, fed up with the dog’s constant barking, “hush up!  Shh!  Quiet now!  Darlin’, I can hardly hear myself think!”

But Dawn’s attention was caught by something else.  Did-?  Did Plum just sprinkle something into one of the glasses?!  Or was it just sugar?

“Heh, mama’s precious little baby _boy_!”  The woman stepped around the patio table and jerked her leg back, resulting in a muted thump, a yelp, and an instant cease of the noise. 

“Wouldn’t you like a nice, cold glass of lemonade?”

Panicking, Dawn jumped up from the table, swayed a bit, and managed to stumble to the locked screen door, but froze when she heard Bog reply.

“Lemonade?”

Plum barely got a chance to beam before Bog hurled over and started dry heaving into the bushes.  Dawn almost collapsed to the floor laughing her butt off. 

 

* * *

 

“I think they’re repulsive; they give me the creeps.”  Marianne grouched, eyeing the numerous, towering topiaries in almost every front yard of their neighborhood as she walked home from campus with Roland and Sienna.

Her friend stepped away from a family of penguins to the outer edge of the sidewalk.   

“You should see the clown in Mrs. Peter’s yard.” 

It was unbelievable.  This Bog guy hadn’t been here a month, and yet there was evidence of him _everywhere_!  The whole suburb seemed to be obsessed with him.  For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why.  The guy was so weird!  Well, at least he wasn’t dangerous, and he was polite to a fault…but still, he was bizarre and creepy!  And he was always staring at her!  Not like a pervert, but like a…like a…sad puppy.  She didn’t know how to handle that, nor did she think she really wanted to. 

Her thoughts were broken by someone calling her name.

The group looked around to see Bog himself standing on the other side of the street beside a large kitten in front of Mrs. Ruby’s house.  Marianne groaned, and clutched her books to her chest.   

“Oh no.”

“Is that him?”  Her friend asked, gaping shamelessly. 

Roland, on the other hand, was rather amused and gave Marianne a playful smack on the behind to nudge her in Bog’s direction. 

“He’s callin’ ya, Buttercup.”

“Stop it!”

“Bog!”  Mrs. Ruby cried out, jogging to his side with a covered plate in her hands.  “You forgot your cookies!”

Bog regarded her silently, but turned his attention back to Marianne.

“Don’t worry, Boggy!”  Roland teased, scooping the brunette into his arms as if he was going to carry her to him.  “She’s waitin’ for ya!”

Marianne squealed and kicked until Roland put her down, and then at Sienna’s behest, they continued on their way down the block without another word to Bog.  Roland, however, kept watching him over his shoulder as they went.  He had his suspicions about the way he’d been looking at Marianne, and some old ideas he’d been toying with began to reform in his head.  Maybe scissor boy could be useful in more ways than just horticulture.

That evening at dinner, Bog had graduated from awkward table guest to host, slicing up the roast beef and serving it to everyone.  Only Sienna appeared to be deeply disturbed by this as she glanced back and forth from Bog’s face to his finger blades on the meat. 

Dawn, in the meantime, went on and on about some new outfit a friend of hers from school had bought last weekend, while everyone else pretended to listen.

“Oh, and daddy!  Bog actually had lunch at Jackie’s house today, and he told me that her mom had the kitchen completely redone!”    

“Really?  I’ll be darned.”

“Yeah!  New paint, new cabinets, new floors, um…a new microwave, new silent dishwasher-”

“Isn’t that wonderful?”

“I know, right?”  Dawn giggled, before addressing Roland.  “Didn’t your mom just have _her_ kitchen done too, Roland?”

“Yup, and my dad bought himself a bunch of new toys: big screen TV, CD player, VCR with four heads.”

“Wow, I wonder what it’s like to be that rich!”

Mr. Edwards met his daughter’s gaze pointedly at that comment.  As mayor, he made a pretty penny, but he refused to be as frivolous with it as Mr. and Mrs. Greenway.  His girls’ education and health were top priority when it came to his money, not a bunch of fancy electronics and unnecessary renovations. 

“Well, they keep things pretty much locked up.”  Roland explained, in a subtle tone that suggested just how he _felt_ about that.  “My father has his own room for his stuff to make sure I can’t get any use of it.  He’s so cheap, he won’t even help me buy an old car.” 

“He probably wants you to pay for it yourself; I agree with him.”  Mr. Edwards said.  “It builds character.  You’ll appreciate it more.”

Roland just grunted and went back to his mashed potatoes while Marianne grimaced at her father.

“ _Dad_.” 

It was embarrassing to have him give parental bits of wisdom to her boyfriend.

“Speaking of money,” David went on, oblivious to his daughter’s irritation, “I understand you’re not charging for your gardening, Bog.”

“Daddy!”  Dawn chided, placing a protective hand on Bog’s shoulder.  “Mrs. Ruby made him cookies today.

Her dad shook his head with a sigh.

“Sweetheart, you can’t buy the necessities of life with cookies.  You can’t buy a car with cookies.  Am I right, Roland?”

Roland gave him an almost patronizing grin.

“Uh, that’s true sir, you can’t.”

By then, Bog had finished with Sienna’s cut of beef and extended it towards her.

“I-I can’t eat that!”  She stated, leaning away in disgust, but curving her tone to not sound so rude.  “He used his hands; I don’t think it’s sanitary.”

Unoffended, Bog passed the meat to Marianne, who gave him room to set it on her plate, but unfortunately, he dropped it too close to the edge.  It plopped into her lap, splattering juice on her skirt, and then slid right to the floor.

Her eyes flashed up to Bog’s in annoyance.

“I’m sorry!”  He whispered fretfully, growing impossibly paler, as Dawn pat his back comfortingly.

Roland snorted behind his hand.   

“Marianne, do you need some help?”  Dawn questioned.

“No, that’s okay.”  Her sister muttered shortly, picking up the beef with her napkin and getting up to head to the kitchen.  “I’ll be right back.”

When she returned later with clean clothes, Roland was stuffing his face with his _third_ helping, but Bog hadn’t touched a bite of his food.  Instead, he had his hands folded in his lap and his head was lowered in shame.  His expression was absolutely pitiful.  So much so, Marianne felt a churn of…pity in her gut.  Geez, if she’d had one, you’d think he’d run over her cat or something.  It was just an accident; no big deal. 

But…

She supposed her reaction might’ve suggested otherwise.   

“…Bog?”

His bright blue eyes met hers hesitantly, as if he was fully anticipating a slap or a verbal thrashing.  The sight made a ball of compassion clench her chest.

“Could I…have another slice, please?”

He was surprised for a beat, but then quickly worked to give her a fresh cut, and this time, she held her plate up to help him.  The tiny, but nonetheless delighted smile he gave her as he passed the beef over, for some reason made her heart skip a beat, but she chose not to dwell on it.

Neither of them noticed the suspicious smirk on Roland’s lips as he watched them out of the corner of his eye.   

 

* * *

 

A week passed, and Bog was at yet another neighbor’s house, trimming a large shrub into a dancing woman wearing a dress.  He was just putting the final touches to the base, when he noticed the white bearded sheepdog sitting in the grass beside him.  Its shaggy hair couldn’t have been at all comfortable in the blazing sun, so on a whim, Bog snipped away at the thick coat, forgetting all about the topiary.  Bits of cotton-ball sized chunks of fuzz fluttered in the breeze as he worked, and in less than thirty seconds, his newest masterpiece was complete. 

Around the side of the house and in the shade, Dawn and the neighbor were chatting as the latter watered her lawn, when they were distracted by the bark of a dog.  Both ladies gasped when they saw the perfectly groomed canine come trotting towards them with Bog following.  What was once a bearded sheepdog, was now more like a champion poodle. 

“Alexis?!”  The neighbor gushed, dropping the hose and falling to her knees to stroke and cuddle her pet.  “Oh, this can’t possibly be my Alexis!  She looks so beautiful!  Look at you, sweetie!  She’s gorgeous!  Thank you, Bog!”

Dawn gave Bog a great, big hug. 

“You’re so thoughtful, Boggy!”

News spread like wildfire about Bog’s latest skill, and soon, all the neighborhood housewives were lined up outside the Edwards’ backyard with their pooches.  Naturally, first in line was Plum, with Imp, and she was taking her sweet time explaining what she’d like. 

“Ya see, I was hoping for somethin' kind of bouffant, ya know,” she winked, “like _mine_? Now, don’t you worry Imp, darlin’, you’re gonna be just fine!  You’re gonna look so pretty!  Yes you are-oh!”

She’d stopped once Bog started his work.  Imp sat obediently still as Plum stepped back and watched with increasing awe. 

Dawn, who was watching by the fence, tried not to get too worried about the suggestive glances Mrs. Plum was sending Bog’s way.  She knew she wouldn’t try anything in public, so she focused on Bog and even clapped with some of the other neighbors to cheer him on until he was done.

“Oh, Boggy!  Is there anything you _can’t_ do?!  Plum enthused, scooping Imp, who, now with a mane and tufts of fur on his legs and tail, was like a miniature lion!  “You take my very breath away, I swear!  Aw, look at this!”

She dreamily gazed at Bog, while he just looked pleased and bashful, but all at once, she practically lit up with an idea and grabbed his arm.

“Have you ever cut a woman’s hair?  Would you cut mine?!”

Without waiting for an answer to either question, Plum set Imp down and rushed to eagerly sit in an empty lawn chair. 

Dawn’s protest that they had a handful of people waiting for their dogs to be groomed, died in her throat thanks to all the women showing just as much unabashed curiosity and excitement about yet another possible talent in Bog’s arsenal.  They all brushed past her to crowd around and watch.   

Bog moved behind Plum and carefully used the blunt ends of his blades to slowly tilt her head side to side, then front and back, to get a vision about what style to go for.  Much to Dawn’s discomfort, Plum’s eyes slid closed in rapture and she kept audibly sighing in ways that could under  _no_  circumstances, be considered innocent.  She wasn’t sure if it was better or worse when Bog at last commenced cutting away at the ridiculous woman’s poofy, platinum blonde tresses.

It didn’t take long, though Dawn was sure she heard more than enough of Plum’s moaning to last her a lifetime.  She’d even been curling her toes!  In the end, Plum was sporting an adorable bob that framed her face nicely. 

“That was the single most thrilling experience of my whole life!”  Plum breathed on her way out, and Dawn rolled her eyes.

It took nearly the rest of the afternoon, but Bog tirelessly managed to cut every woman and her dog’s hair that came.  With each design more creative and unique than the last, even Dawn was unable to resist the temptation.  When everyone left, Bog cleared off the chair with a small feather duster and guided her to sit for her turn.     

 


	7. Chapter 7

“I’m home!”  Marianne called out into the empty living room.  Tonight, she’d had her evening Economics class, so dinner had been missed.

“We’re in here!”  Came Dawn’s cheerful reply from their dad’s bedroom.

Halfway down the hall, Marianne heard her sister’s voice saying something about someone ‘getting the head of the company’.  Was she on the phone?

“Hey, I-!”

Her hunch was correct, but her greeting was cut off when she got a load of the scene in front of her:  Bog, with a clip holding half of his unruly hair back from his face, which was covered in some sort of white cream, and Dawn, sporting a brand new and unusual change.

“What did you do to your _hair_?”

“Bog cut it!  Isn’t it _wild_?!”  Dawn squealed, before getting distracted by whoever was on the phone. 

It certainly _was_ wild.  Gone was her sister’s usual long ponytail, and in its place, was a pixie cut similar to her own, except it was more fluffed up and curly.  Marianne had to admit, it looked……rather _cute_.  It really suited Dawn. 

However, the thought was overlapped by the awkwardness of Bog smiling pleasantly at her in silence, while her sister continued her phone conversation.  For some reason, she couldn’t think of anything to say; her mind was a complete blank, and his bright, gentle eyes were making weird bubbles fizz in her gut for reasons she did _not_ want to examine.  So, with a stiff nod, she left for her own bedroom.     

“Oh, I can’t believe I’m talking to you in person!  This is such an honor!”  Dawn gushed into the phone, completely oblivious to her sister’s departure.

While she spoke, Bog poked curiously at the various ointments she’d set out on the table beside him. 

“Yes…….yes, he’s right here……great, so then you know all about it……right……well, that is exactly what I’ve been using……I’m just having trouble getting the right consistency…”

Dawn shifted the phone to her shoulder so she could stir another cosmetic mixture.

“…Oh, okay…I will try that…..yeah……what an imaginative suggestion, thank you so much……I sure will…bye-bye!”

Hanging up the phone, Dawn exhaled dreamily as if she’d just chatted with Oprah Winfrey. 

“No wonder she’s the head of the company!  You know, she started out as a sales representative, just like me.  I’ve always wanted to talk to her, but until now, I never had a reason.  Thanks, Boggy!”

Bog smiled as she readied a sponge wedge to blot his left cheek. 

“She had some ideas?”

“You bet she did.  We’ll have these scars of yours looking better in no time!”  Dawn promised, already patting his face gently to follow the head’s instructions, and soon getting lost in concentration.  “Uh-huh…”

“Mm-hmm.” 

 

* * *

 

Three days later, and Dawn’s improved facial procedure had done wonders.  Bog’s scars were less pronounced, and his color was much livelier and less...vampiric.  He’d never looked closer to…normal.  It had actually taken some effort to get him to tear his eyes away from the stranger in the mirror and go with Mrs. Verbana down to the hardware store to sharpen his blades. 

When they’d stepped out of the car, Bog once again paused at the sight of Marianne hanging out with her friends at the far end of the shops. 

She didn’t see him; she was far too preoccupied with hugging and kissing Roland before nudging him in the direction of a large van.  Within seconds, the group of young adults piled into the vehicle, and it pulled out of the parking lot.

Bog’s expression betrayed little, but there was a definite forlorn shadow in his eyes. 

“Bog?”  Mrs. Verbana asked, bringing him out of his frozen state.  “We’re here.  Come on, let’s get you sharpened up.”

With that, he silently followed her into the store, but didn’t say a word for the rest of the outing.  

 

* * *

 

Roland peered over Marianne’s shoulder as she dug deeper into her purse, trying to find her lousy house key.

“You got it?”

“No,” she grumbled, “I can’t believe this!”

He uselessly tried the door as she kept on searching.  Dawn and Sunny were at the movies and were going to go roller skating afterwards, and Mr. Edwards was out fishing, so there was no telling when anyone would be home to let them in.  A fact he’d previously been _pleased_ about. 

Marianne bit back a frustrated curse, but then noticed someone approaching them 

It was Bog; just dropped off by Mrs. Verbana. 

“Do you have a key?”

Almost as soon as she said it, she realized what a stupid question that was.  Why on earth would he have a key?  How the hell would he even use one?

“No.”  He replied.

Well, so much for that ray of hope, no matter how much of a long shot it had been. 

“I could’ve sworn I had it in my purse.”  She groaned, turning to Roland, who had given up pushing on the window.

“Looks like we’re stranded.” 

No sooner had he made that statement, when Bog stepped up onto the porch and reached past Marianne to jimmy the lock with the tip of his ‘pinky’.  A few prods, and with a click, the door swung open.

“Wow!”  Marianne whispered in awe, beaming at Bog without realizing it.  “Thank you!”

Those devastatingly blue orbs sparkled at her and she had to hurry inside to hide a puzzling blush.

“Bog-man,” Roland smirked, patting him on the back, “what a guy; nice job!  Ya didn’t break it or scratch it or anythin’.  Hey, be a pal and give a yell when the old man pulls in, huh?”

He gave Bog a suggestive wink and strode into the house, already making a beeline for Marianne’s bedroom, and nearly pumping his fist at how perfectly his plan was coming together.

“Don’t listen to him.”  Marianne asserted, having overheard the last part as she came out of the kitchen where she’d gone to grab some sodas.  “We’re _just_ going to study for our finals.”

Bog nodded and closed the door as she followed after Roland, all the while wondering why she’d bothered to let him know that. 

 

* * *

 

Barely an hour later, Roland was storming out of the house in an angry huff, and Marianne was just as pissed.  She’d finally gotten fed up with him not keeping his hands to himself and flat out told him to leave if he wasn’t going to concentrate on their studying.  So, he called her a frigid little princess, and went. 

They’d been having more and more fights like this lately, and Marianne’s irritation was getting worse because every time they made up and Roland promised to behave himself, he’d take any innocent peck or cuddle as an invitation to third base and beyond.  Not to mention the rumors about his other amorous exploits hadn’t died down either, so Marianne was feeling even more confused and upset. 

She loved Roland.  He was charming and _so_ good looking, but she didn’t know how much more of his crap she could take. 

Needing to vent her fury, Marianne snatched her sword from the wall, tossed the sheath to the carpet, and stomped out to the backyard. 

Once she’d begun using her sword, she’d built a wooden dummy to practice with.  Really, it was just the trunk of a small tree with a few branches as thick as her arm that she’d covered in foam, cut, and placed in the ground to her height.  The sleeves were pretty chewed up from the years of abuse, but they kept her blade from getting damaged over time and still allowed her the satisfaction of cutting into something.

Gritting her teeth, she hacked away at the dummy, internally reveling in each new slice she inflicted into the foam, but not managing to make a dent in her rage against Roland. 

What a selfish ass!  Where the hell did he come off calling her ‘frigid’?!  She was more than fine with physical affection, and even getting a tad hot and heavy, but _he_ was the one that had to learn to respect her fucking boundaries!  And ‘princess’?!  Was that supposed to be some kind of shot at how she was the mayor’s daughter?  Considering how _his_ family had more money than anyone else in the whole town, _that_ was rich!  _Literally_!   

When the first wave of her ire passed, and she leaned back to wipe the beading sweat from her brow, she flinched at the realization that Bog had followed her outside at some point, and was watching her from the patio.   

“The hell are _you_ staring at?”  She snapped, not in the mood for his creepiness right now.

“…”

“Just go away!”

“Yer upset.”

“You _think_?!”

“Can I help?”

“No!  I can take care of myself!” 

“Did I upset ye?”

“What?  No!”

“Did _he_?”

She was momentarily stunned by the question, but the mention of Roland got her hackles up.

“That’s none of your business, okay?" 

“…”

She tried to go back to her training, but every time she raised her weapon to swing, she just couldn’t do it with him standing there.  Eventually, she gave in with a growl. 

“Look, if you _really_ wanna help, why don’t you come over here and put those hands of yours to better use?”

She grimaced at her phrasing, but thankfully, Bog seemed too naïve to pick up on innuendos.

“Defend yourself.”  Was her order, when he came close enough.

She charged at him with an upward swing.  It would be tricky with his metal fingers, but she was careful to use the flat of her blade to keep it from shattering on impact. 

Bog blocked her and sidestepped, dodged three more following strikes.  His puppy-like expression of concern stayed in place as they danced around each other in circles, but he never once took the offensive.  That was just fine with Marianne.  She wasn’t interested a fair opponent right now, she just needed to blow off steam.  

And boy, was it working!  In barely two minutes, she was forgetting all about Roland and even enjoying herself!  Bog matched her, blow for blow; catching her sword flawlessly, and when he saw the tension leave her face, he couldn’t help giving a shy grin.  It was all so exhilarating; she’d never felt so free and relaxed.  She even heard herself giggling as she rushed at Bog again. 

But when they connected this time, instead of moving back, Bog had braced his leg and their arms had nowhere to go but up.  In an instant, their chests and lips were barely an inch apart.   

Chocolate and sapphire clashed, time slowed, and she was surrounded by the scent of something simple and comforting, like the crisp, clean pages of a library book, and fresh, baked cookies.  Her pulse jumped and heat that had nothing to do with the early summer, spread across her skin as her stomach fluttered. 

Frightened by her reaction, Marianne tore away from Bog without a word, and fled for the safety of her room.  

 

* * *

 

By the weekend, everything was relatively back to normal.  Roland had come around after the finals to apologize profusely for his behavior, and the couple made up.  However, the rest of the house was in a spin because Bog had been asked to come to the local channel 7 station to be a guest on their afternoon talk show, and since Dawn had found him, she was invited as well! 

It really was kind of exciting, and on Saturday, Mr. Edwards drove Bog and his youngest daughter to the station, while Marianne, Roland, and Sunny watched on the TV at home.

Dawn looked radiant on camera, and she had managed to wrangle Bog’s hair into a somewhat more presentable mess.  Bog had been dressed in a black blazer and slathered with makeup to cover his paleness as best as possible. 

The show procedure was standard: introduction, discovery story, and showcasing Bog’s creations.  Then came time for the questions.

“What’s been the best part of your new life here in town?”

“The friends I’ve made.”

His answer earned him an applause, and the host moved on to the next lady.

“Have you ever thought of having corrective surgery or prosthetics?  I know a doctor that might be able to help you.”

Marianne frowned at the flash of sadness in Bog’s eyes. 

“…I’d like to meet him.”

“Thank you!  We’ll give that name after the show!”  The host said enthusiastically, and chose another audience member.  “Anyone else?  Yes!  Stand right up.”

“But if you had regular hands, you’d be like everyone else.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I think he’d like that.”  The host joked, and a soft chuckle rippled through the crowd.   

“But then, no one would think you were special.”  A different woman piped up.  “You wouldn’t be on TV or anything.”

Bog hesitantly opened his mouth to answer, but Dawn rescued him.

“No matter what, Boggy will _always_ be special!”

She patted Bog’s arm with a smile as the audience clapped again.

“More questions?”  The host asked, and an older lady rose.  “Yes!”

“Your work is so interesting, distinctive, and unique!  I wonder, do you have any plans to open your own beauty salon?”

Bog didn’t get a chance to respond, due to the audience practically cheering for it to be true.  Dawn just waggled her eyebrows at him, and the host went on.

“That’s quite an idea!  Anyone else?”

A sixth woman got up, wringing her hands and blushing like a schoolgirl. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

The audience sure loved _that_ question.  A flood of cooing and titters filled the studio. 

“Sure he does.”  Roland claimed, nudging Marianne’s arm.  “Right, Buttercup?”

Marianne glared at him, but it was too late.  Sunny caught the exchange and joined in on the teasing.

“ _Right_ , Marianne?”

“Great, now you got _him_ started!”

Immediately, Roland switched gears and lightly smacked Sunny’s shoulder. 

“Knock it off, shrimp.”

“ _You_ did it first!”

“ _So_?”

Marianne ignored them both and gave the television her full attention.

“How about it, Bog?”  The host inquired.  “ _Is_ there some special lady in your life?”

The camera cut to Bog’s face and suddenly, Marianne felt exposed. 

She didn’t know what joke God was playing on her these past few weeks, but she didn’t find it the least bit funny.  It was stupid.  He couldn’t see her; he was miles away!  So, why did it still feel like he was peering directly into her soul?  And did they _have_ to slowly zoom in on him that way?! 

As he gradually leaned into the mic, Marianne didn’t know which would be worse.  Him saying yes……or _no_? 

Either way, her heart was thumping.

But she never got to know what he was going to say, for there was a loud snap, a flash of sparks and smoke, and Bog flew backwards away from the microphone, knocking his chair over.  He’d accidentally touched the live wires with his scissors. 

The audience, including Dawn, Sunny, and Marianne, all gasped in horror, but Roland howled with laughter like a damn hyena.  Marianne’s hands flew to her mouth as she saw her sister and a few techies leap to Bog’s aid.  All she could see of Bog, were his legs twitching.  

“Uh...everything’s alright!”  The host stammered as the studio went into an uproar.  “Ah, we’ll…take a break and…be back after these messages!”

“Oh my God!”  Sunny breathed as a coffee commercial took over the screen, but he was drowned out by Roland, whose hysterics now had him rolling on the floor. 

“Why are you _laughing_?!”  Marianne demanded, shoving him with a harsh scowl.  “He got _hurt_!”

Her jerk of a boyfriend sobered a bit, but waved her off.

“Aw, it just a little shock.  What do _you_ care?”

“A _little_ shock?”

“Damn, I wish we’d been _tapin’_ that!”  He griped, not listening to her.  “I’d give my left nut to see that again.”

Disgusted, Marianne shot up and headed to the kitchen.

“Ugh!  I’m calling dad.”

After a few more advertisements aired, a TV spot featuring highlights from the talk show came on, and Sunny sighed in longing.   

“Dawn sure looked great, huh?”

Roland glanced at Sunny in thought before speaking.

“…Yep, she sure did.”

“…”

“…”

“So when are ya gonna man up and make a move?”

“Wh-what?!”

“Come on, man.  _Everybody_ knows, but her.  She’s hot, so what’s the problem?”

Sunny wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock, but there was no use lying. 

“I…I _can’t_.  She’s my best friend, and I don’t want to lose that.  Besides,” he murmured, lowering his gaze pitifully, “I’m not her type.”

Roland twirled a lock of his golden hair to conceal a gleam of wicked amusement in his eyes.  This was going to be just too easy. 

“I _might_ be able to help you out there, buddy.”     

 

* * *

 

In the kitchen, Marianne tapped her heel as she anxiously waited on hold for someone at the studio to fetch her father.  When he finally _did_ come on the phone, she couldn’t keep the sheer panic from her voice.

“Dad!  Dad, is Bog okay?!”

“He’s fine, sweetheart!”  Her dad assured her, and she sagged against the counter in relief.  “He’s a bit shaken up, but Dawn and the paramedics told me he’s just fine.  Did you want to talk to him?”

It was at that moment when Marianne’s cheeks flamed.  What the hell was she _doing_?!      

“No!  No, no!  That’s alright!  I’ll s-see you guys when you get home!  Bye!”

She then quickly hung up before her dad could say anything else, and focused on calming the strange, heavy pounding in her chest. 


	8. Chapter 8

The following Friday, the entire Edwards household were expected to meet at a local burger joint for lunch.  Bog was going to join them after he’d finished a few more little jobs for the neighbors, but when Mr. Edwards walked into the restaurant, which was fifteen minutes past the agreed upon arrival time, Bog still hadn’t shown.  They even had to order for him. 

“I wonder where he could be?”  Dawn asked, checking the door for the fiftieth time as the waitress left with their orders.  “It’s not like him to be late.”

“Dawn, I’m sure he’s fine.”  Her dad said absently as he read his newspaper.  “One can hardly blame him for being so busy these days, you know.”

“He’s probably on his way right now.”  Sunny suggested before sticking his hand into his pocket and retrieving a small handful of quarters.  “Wanna check out the arcade with me?”       

“…Okay.”

As the pair walked into the side room filled with flashing lights and pinging machines, they noticed Marianne playing Street Fighter across the aisle from Pinball.  She’d been rather quiet all day.  Little did they know, Roland had called her earlier that morning, saying that he needed to talk to her about something important once she got out of her afternoon Accounting summer class. 

Sunny made it through a round and a half of Pinball before Dawn couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“That’s it!  I’m calling Mrs. Ruby and finding out where Bog is!” 

Marianne looked over at the mention of Bog to see her sister jogging away in the direction of the payphones.

“What’s going on?”  She asked, stepping to Sunny’s side as he sunk his last ball.   

“She’s worried about Bog.”  He replied, peering around the corner of the arcade to their table, where only Mr. Edwards sat, sipping his root beer. 

Sunny checked his watch and frowned. 

“Frankly, I’m starting to worry, too.  He should’ve been here half an hour ago!”

Marianne’s stomach twisted.  With those hands of his, she doubted anyone would try to physically hurt Bog, but he was innocent and trusting.  She remembered him getting shocked by that microphone.  What if there had been an accident and no one could reach them since they weren’t home?

As if reading her mind, she heard Sunny say:

“Do you think maybe one of us should go home in case something happened and there’s a message?”

She didn’t answer verbally, but instead grabbed Sunny’s arm and slowly marched back to their table, when they were suddenly stopped halfway by Dawn running up to them looking pale and panicked.

Sunny grabbed her shoulders.

“Dawn, what is it?”

“It’s Bog!  Mrs. Ruby said he was just about to leave when…when…”

“When _what_?”  Her sister demanded.

“When Mrs. Plum showed up and said she wanted to show Bog the salon she’s opening in the fall!  He left with her!”

A fierce cold spread over Marianne’s skin.  Like everyone else she’d heard about Sugar Plum’s reputation, but unlike some people in the neighborhood, she knew there was some weight behind the rumors.  About a year ago, Roland had laughingly let it slip after a few beers that when his mother went out of town on a business trip, his dad had an affair with Mrs. Plum until his wife came home.  Marianne hadn’t thought it was funny then, and she certainly didn’t now.  The very image, _idea_ , of Bog and Plum…

She felt nauseous. 

“What are we gonna _do_?!”  Dawn hissed, practically shaking.

Marianne struggled to think straight.  They were in quite a fix.  The idea of Bog opening a salon had sparked Plum’s _and_ Dawn’s interest, and they’d been bouncing ideas off each other all week.  Last the girls had heard, Mr. Plum had rented a little shop space for his wayward spouse, but its location had not been disclosed.  They had no clue where Bog was!  So how could they get to him? 

Her heart thumped in her ears, but her father managed to break through the ruckus.

“Kids!  Food’s here!”

Marianne took a deep breath and gently nudged Dawn and Sunny forward. 

“Let’s just…stay calm and......sit down.  I’ll talk to dad and try to figure something out.”

The trio slid into their seats, eyeing each other nervously and not touching so much as a single fry on their plates.  Oblivious as ever, Mr. Edwards chatted away about something sports or Wall Street related, for all they knew.

Clearing her throat, Marianne opened her mouth.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Three out of the four tablemates nearly jumped out of their skin at the abrupt sight of Bog standing expectantly by the booth. 

“Bog!”  Dawn exclaimed, frantically scanning him from head to toe.  “Where have you been?”

He was distracted from responding due to everyone shifting over to give Bog room to sit.  Marianne watched him carefully.  Everything seemed normal.  Well…normal for Bog, anyway.  The same shy, unsure expression.  His clothes didn’t look rumpled.  Maybe they’d all been overreacting and Plum actually had shown some restraint? 

“So Bog,” her father began, “did you have a productive day?”

Bog nodded with his usual tiny smile.

“Mrs. Plum showed me where thah salon’s goin’ tah be.  Ye could ‘ave a cosmetics counter, Dawn.”

“…Oh…um…” she stammered, “…wouldn’t that be _great_?”

“Great.”  Mr. Edwards agreed, pouring the ketchup as Bog continued.

“An’ then she showed me thah back room where she took all o’ her clothes off.”

Everything came to a screeching halt.  Marianne’s head shot up in horror while Sunny coughed on his bite of burger.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dawn’s hands cover her mouth to hold in a whimper.  The wordless pause seemed to last an eternity.

“Bog I can’t tell you how thrilled I am.”  Mr. Edwards stated.  “I’m just pleased as punch.”

Enraged, Marianne whirled around to chew her father out, but stopped short when she saw that he was completely engrossed in his meal.  He wasn’t even really listening!

“This whole beauty salon venture is gonna teach you volumes.  There’s nothing like owning your own business.  I’ve never done it myself, but from what I gather, it’s the greatest satisfaction a working man can have.”

Marianne could not believe this!  Here, Bog had basically admitted to being at least sexually harassed, if not assaulted, and all her dad cared about was business ownership?  Or, to be more specific, the _money_?  She was so angry she didn’t catch Dawn whispering furiously in Sunny’s ear.

“So,” Mr. Edwards went on, “I guess the bank’s going to be your next step?”

“The bank?”

“Yeah, take out a loan; get yourself started.  Nothing to worry about with your talent and rep; it’ll be a snap.”

“I need to go to the bathroom!”  Dawn cried, already pushing Sunny and, by extension, Bog, out of the booth. 

“M-me too!”  Sunny joined, but he snagged Bog by the elbow.  “Why don’t you come with me, man?  I’ll show you what a urinal looks like!”

Marianne watched them go, debating what to do in her head.  Should she follow them?  Bog wasn’t her responsibility, but regardless, she wouldn’t want anyone else to experience what he’d gone through today.  Plus, if she sat by her dad any longer, she’d probably literally smack him upside the head!  And she _had_ to know…… _did_ Mrs. Plum… _touch_ him? 

Decision made, she quickly got up and made her way to the hall leading to the restrooms.  She was familiar enough with the layout of the place to know that there was a sharp turn to the left at the end of the hall where all the doors were situated in a sort of alcove.  As she neared the corner, the hushed voices made her freeze and lose her nerve, so she opted to eavesdrop. 

“Bog,” Sunny whispered, “tell us what happened with Mrs. Plum.”

“She showed me where thah salon’s goin’ tah be.  Ye could ‘ave a cosmetics-”

“No, no, no!  _After_ she took you into the backroom.  What _exactly_ did she do?”

“She pushed me into a chair an’ turned on some music.  Then she modeled some smocks fer me, an’ I said I liked thah purple one.”

She didn’t know why, but Marianne felt her heart flutter a bit at his color preference. 

“And…?”

“She climbed onto mah lap an’ took off ‘er clothes.”

Dawn gasped, and Marianne’s throat closed up as her guts lurched.  She had to lean against the wall to avoid sliding to the floor.  This was…this was just disgusting!  Pure and simple.  To take advantage of someone as generous and kind as Bog was criminal!  She wanted nothing more than to find Mrs. Plum and punch her square in the eye.  Her fists curled and she almost left to begin her hunt, but Sunny’s interrogation wasn’t over.

“…Is that it?”

“No.”

“Christ, what _else_?”

“She leaned in an’ then thah chair fell over.”

.

.

.

The silly turn of events cooled Marianne’s rage a few levels.  It hadn’t gone any farther. 

“Uh…um……what-?  What did you do then?”

“I felt uncomfortable, an’ I knew I was late fer lunch, so I left.” 

“That’s all?  She didn’t do anything else to you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.  Have I done somethin’ wrong?”

“What?!  NO!”  Dawn blurted out in obvious distress.  “ _God_ , no, Bog!  You did absolutely _nothing_ wrong!  Just…from now on…don’t go anywhere alone with Mrs. Plum, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because what she did was _bad_ , Bog.”  Sunny explained.  “I mean, did you _want_ her to molest you and climb on you like that?  Did you like it?”

“…No, I didn’t…….I was scared.”

Marianne heard her sister utter a sob before going on through grit teeth. 

“Then what she did was inappropriate.  And she does this to men all the time.  I’m so sorry, Bog!  We tried to keep you away from her!  It’s all our fault!”

“It’s alright, Dawn.”  Sunny comforted.  “It won’t ever happen again.  Just don’t go anywhere with Plum anymore, okay Bog?  Not without one of us with you.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Sunny?  Should we call the police?”

“…I don’t know.  It’d be her word against his.”

“But everybody knows Bog wouldn’t _lie_!”

“Yeah, but we don’t have any other _proof_!”

There was another brief silence before Dawn spoke again.

“I guess…I guess we have to…keep this to ourselves?”

“Doesn’t seem to be any other choice.”

Dawn gave a shuddering sigh, and mentioned something about freshening up before Marianne heard the squeak of one of the bathroom doors. 

“May I see thah urinal now?”  Bog asked.

“Huh?  Oh!  S-sure, buddy.  Come on.”

When the sound of the men’s room door creaked open and closed, Marianne shuffled back to the table with a heavy feeling inside. 

 

* * *

 

After lunch, Dawn and her dad took Bog with them to the bank.  As it turned out, getting a loan for Bog wasn’t a much of a ‘snap’ as Mr. Edwards thought it would be.  Apparently, banks didn’t appreciate people who spent the majority of their life hidden away from the world.

“No credit…no record of jobs you’ve held…no savings…no personal investments…no social security number, you may as well not even exist, there is no collateral.”

Dawn shifted under the bank manager’s impassive glare as her father tried to negotiate.  Mayor or not, they were still all living on a single income.  Her Avon sales could barely pay the electric bill!     

“No, we already have a second on the house, but don’t the testimonials make a difference?  Did you see?  The senator’s wife can’t wait to become a client!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mayor.  We simply can’t do it.”

The man firmly closed the book and addressed Bog, who’d been sitting quietly in his chair the whole time. 

“Now, get yourself a social security card, established credit, and buy yourself a _car_.  You have a decided advantage; you can get one of those _handicap_ plaques, no problem.  You can park anywhere you like.” 

Bog just smiled, not understanding.

“I can’t believe it.  I mean, it’s just so stupid!”  Dawn complained as they left the building a few minutes later. 

“Don’t worry, Bog; this isn’t the end of it.”  Her dad promised, patting Bog’s shoulder.  “We’ll get your money somehow.”         

 

* * *

 

"But that’s breaking and entering!”

“Look, my parents have insurance up the rear, okay?  What’ll it cost ‘em?  A little hassle, an' that’s it!  By the weekend, my dad will have a new an’ better everything!

“We can’t!”

Roland had come up with some crazy schemes in the past, especially about getting money from his parents, but up until now, Marianne had thought they were nothing more than pipe dreams.  Now, he was serious, and she had no idea what to do!  What if they got _caught_? 

“There’s a guy who’ll give us cash for this stuff!”

“Roland, I don’t want to!”

“Ya don’t want us to have our own van like the triplets, so we can be alone whenever we like, huh?  With a mattress in the back?”

“Why can’t _you_ just do it?”

“Because my father keeps the damn room locked, we need _Bog_ to get us in!”

“Well, can’t you take the key when he’s sleeping or something?”

Roland rolled his eyes.

“Ya don’t understand, alright?  The only thing he holds onto tighter is his dick!”

Marianne just sighed heavily and glanced around the pastel-colored neighborhood, as if expecting to find a solution on one of Bog’s topiaries. 

“Come on, Marianne.  Ol’ razorblades would do _anything_ fer _you_.”

 _That_ got her attention back.  She whirled around and narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend. 

“What do mean?  That’s not true!”

“Oh no?  Why don’t ya ask him?”

“That’s not fair!”

“What’s fair got to do with it?”  Roland asked, sounding annoyed.  “There isn’t any other way!”

“There’s _gotta_ be!”

Roland stared at her for a beat, perhaps about to argue more, but his face softened and he slipped an arm around her shoulders.

“Look, I’ve wracked my brain.”  He murmured and kissed her forehead.  “Don’t ya want us to have our own van?”

“Well…I guess, but…”

Marianne felt trapped.  It was no secret that Roland’s parents were crazy loaded, and some dark, inner part of her found the thought of all that money to be extremely tempting.  And for the past two years, she and Roland occasionally discussed the idea of getting their own car.  But was it worth the risk of possibly getting arrested?     

Was it worth getting Bog involved?  True, having him there _would_ make the whole thing a lot easier.  She might not approve of Roland’s ethics, but she couldn’t deny his logic.  Still, it felt so _wrong_.  Maybe…   

“Then _ask_ him, buttercup.”


	9. Chapter 9

Later that evening, when it pitch dark, and well after midnight, Danny’s van rolled silently down the block and parked at the vacant lot directly across the street from Roland’s house.  The passenger-side door slid open and four figures clad all in black ,carefully climbed out. 

“Roland!”  Marianne hissed so Bog wouldn’t hear.  “The lights are on!”

“Those go on automatically, in case of burglars.  They’re gone fer the weekend; I told ya!”

“You turned off the alarm, right?”

“Yes!  What do ya think, I’m stupid?”

While the two bickered, Sunny was a nervous wreck, and he fidgeted as he waited for somebody to hand him one of the bags they’d brought to stash the loot.  The whole ride over, Marianne had kept glancing at him suspiciously, not quite satisfied with the flimsy excuse Roland have given about just wanting to ‘cut the kid a break’; but she’d looked just as guilty herself, and both she _and_ Sunny had trouble meeting Bog’s innocent gaze.   

 _You sure he doesn’t know it’s Roland’s place?_ He’d whispered to her at one point.

_Well, he’s never been there before._

“Alright, let’s go!”  Roland whispered once he’d grabbed a bag, and passed Sunny his own. 

Obediently, Sunny and Bog began to follow him across the street, but Roland smirked when he saw that Marianne was also accompanying them.

“Where do ya think _yer_ goin’, sweetie?”

“In there!”

Roland chuckled.

“Oh no, no, no!  This ain’t no job fer my little princess.  Now ya just wait right out here ‘til I get back, buttercup!”

“What?!  But I-!”

Her boyfriend just cupped her cheeks.

“Help Danny keep a look out an' we’ll be back in a jiffy!  Thanks, babe!”

He then planted quick kiss to her lips and left her there on the sidewalk. 

Bog, who’d been watching the exchange, hesitated at Marianne’s frown, which ended up making him forget to be quiet when he turned to go after Sunny and Roland.

“This person stole from ye-?”

“Shh, shh!”  Roland snapped, whirling around to wave him silent.  “Keep yer voice down!  I already told ya who stole it, alright?”

“Why dorn’t ye tell his parents so they’ll make him give it back?”  Bog asked in a much more hushed tone.

“I’ve tried all that!  There’s no other way!  Now ya told Marianne ya’d do this, right?  Come _on_!” 

Clutching Bog’s arm, he dragged the man along with him up the walk.

Sunny was waiting for them on the porch, deliberately staring at his shoes and _not_ the vacant mint green house looming before him like a dragon’s cave. 

After yanking Bog away from a hedge that needed trimming, Roland led them all to the front door and instructed Bog to unlock it as planned.  He’d made sure the deadbolt was disengaged before he left that afternoon, so all it took was a few jiggles and prods from Bog’s index ‘blade’ to pop the lock and swing the door open. 

Roland strode right into the house as he’d done a million times, figuring Bog would be too stupid to notice; though he did inconspicuously flip one of his framed pictures sitting on an end table face down as he passed through the living room and headed into the shadowy hallway.

At the end was the door to the media room, where his parents kept all their expensive electronics and other valuables.  There were three heavy duty locks, so Roland knew it would take Bog a few minutes to pick them, leaving him just enough to time to show Sunny why he’d let him tag along.

“Have fun, snips.”  He said to Bog, slapping him on the shoulder as the guy knelt down to get to work.  “Me an’ Sunny will be right with ya.  We’re just gonna...go check the bedrooms.  Be right back.”        

Bog nodded, and Roland pulled Sunny into his parent’s master suite.  He ducked inside his father’s walk-in closet for a few seconds, reappearing with a...

...glittery, pink bottle?

To be fair, Sunny hadn’t quite known what to expect when Roland said he had something to help him with Dawn, but the girliest thing he’d probably ever seen in his life to come out of Mr. Greenway’s closet, was definitely _not_ even on his list of wildest guesses.    

“What’s _that_?”

“ _This_ is gonna solve yer little problem.”

“Huh?”

“Did ya know that Sugar Plum actually has a degree in chemistry?”

“…Um…no?”

_What did SHE of all people, have to do with ANY of this?_

Roland shrugged.

“Not many do.  She didn’t pursue it after she’d got married.  But before that, she managed to produce some of _this_.”

“Well, what _is_ it?”

“Expensive stuff; real high quality.  Nothin’ on this earth smells sweeter.  Now we both know Dawn likes pretty, classy things.  Ya give this to her as a gift an' make sure she gets a nice, good whiff, she’ll be so impressed, you’ll have yer dream girlfriend in no time.  Trust me.”

Cautious, but intrigued, Sunny took the shiny, ornate perfume, examining its golden cap, which was shaped like a budding rose.  It did make _some_ sense.  Dawn loved presents; the more flashy and feminine, the better.  Maybe...this _would_ do the trick.      

“Wait, how did _your_ dad get this?”

“Eh, ya could call it a...souvenir?  He fucked Sugar Plum a few times while my mom was outta town.” 

The casual explanation shocked Sunny to the core.  Roland’s blatant lack of concern over his father’s adultery and the state of his parent’s marriage, gave him an icy feeling in the pit of his stomach.  Add in the recent inappropriate behavior to Bog on Plum’s part, and doubt prickled the teen all over. 

He’d always envied Roland for his movie star looks, charisma, and popularity.  Up until now, he thought he’d be an idiot to ever refuse romantic advice from a guy who could have any girl he wanted.  But this discovery made him question everything he’d known about him.  _Were_ some of those rumors about _his_ indiscretions actually true?  What about Marianne?  She was the big sister he never had.  He didn’t want to see her hurt. 

Sunny shook his head.  He needed to calm down and stop jumping to conclusions.  This was neither the time nor the place to worry about stuff like that anyway.  Roland’s parents, and their son’s attitude about them, were none of his business.  And said attitude didn’t _necessarily_ mean that Roland felt that way about relationships in general. 

Right now, he just wanted to finish up here and go home.           

He muttered and awkward thanks as he stuffed the bottle into his coat pocket and hurried back out into the hall to find Bog with Roland in tow. 

“How’s it comin’, razor blades?”  

Bog didn’t answer; he didn’t _need_ to.  The third lock popped almost on cue, and the media room door slid open. 

Automatically, Bog stepped across the bright threshold with Sunny on his heels, and Roland had just leaned past the doorjamb, when the door itself started to swing back. 

Bog noticed and pushed Sunny out of the way in the nick of time with his arm, sending him stumbling into Roland just as the door slammed shut and relocked; leaving Bog trapped inside. 

Immediately, an alarm loud enough to wake the dead blared through the house.  Panicking, Sunny threw himself at the door, pounding and kicking at it while Roland spat a curse. 

“Shit!  My parents must’ve had it wired separately!  Come on!”

“No!”  Sunny protested as Roland yanked him out of the hallway by the jacket sleeve.  “Roland, we can’t just leave him here!”

But the blonde ignored him, and no matter how much he struggled, there was no way Sunny’s woefully short frame could overpower a jock.  Roland tore out of the house and shoved Sunny in front of him, forcing him to make a break for the van.   

Here, Sunny had the advantage.  Now more scared than anything else, he easily reached the van far ahead of Roland, but came face to face with a frantic Marianne. 

“Sunny, what the hell?!”

“There was... a second...alarm!”  He panted.

Even in the darkness, he could see Marianne’s cheeks pale as she saw _only_ Roland running in their direction. 

“Where’s Bog?!”

“He got locked in!  He pushed me out before the door shut!”

“What?!”

With her heart in her throat, Marianne took off sprinting towards the house.  Her worst nightmare about all this had come true.  She had no idea what she planned to do, but she just had to get to Bog. 

She _had_ to! 

He was alone and scared, and it was all her fault!  She never should’ve asked him!  She never should’ve listened to Roland!

Unfortunately, _Roland_ was in her way, and when he saw where she was apparently heading, he snatched her by the wrist in an attempt to stop her.  She wrenched her arm away with a snarl, but was then seized around the waist and hauled over her boyfriend’s shoulder as he jogged the rest of the way to the idling van.    

“Stop!”  She raged, thrashing uselessly in his hold.  “Roland, put me _down_!”

“GET IN!”  Roland barked at Sunny as he practically threw Marianne into the backseat and scrambled in after her. 

Sunny took one last desperate glimpse at the house.  Tears stung his eyes when he heard the sirens in the distance.  He had no choice, and he’d never hated himself more than he did at that very moment. 

_I’m so sorry, Bog._

He climbed into van, and they peeled away. 

“Danny, turn around!”  Marianne pleaded before they’d even gone half a block. 

“No way!” 

“No, Marianne!”      

“Roland, it’s _your_ house!  They can’t arrest you for setting off the alarm in your own house!  We’ll just...we’ll tell them we freaked and ran!”

“I’m not goin’ back there, okay?”

“We _have_ to go back!”

“No, because my father would prosecute!”

“His own _son_?!”

“ _Especially_ his own son!  An' if Bog tells, I’ll **_kill_** him!”

“Danny, turn around!”

“Sweetheart, I said no!”

“TURN AROUND!”

“ _NO_!”

“WE _HAVE_ TO!”

While the couple continued to shout and argue, Sunny just buried his face in his hands in shame.   

 

* * *

 

It had been a slow Saturday night for Sergeant Brutus.  He was almost grateful for some action to break up the monotony of neighborhood patrols and shooing kids away from various make out spots.  His transfer from the big city was only a few days old, but he was getting the hang of things relatively quick, and a would-be cat burglar was just about the most exciting thing a cop could hope to encounter in this small town.    

He swerved his squad car into position in front of the Greenway house against the opposite curb, and two other cars flanked him to make a sort of barrier, both for their protection and those of the neighbors whom he could see gradually flicking their lights on and peeking through their windows at all the commotion. 

Sticking to procedure as always, he exited his flaring vehicle and spoke to the unlucky thief through his bull horn:

_“We know you’re in there!  We’re in the process of deactivating the system so you can come out!”_

It hardly took a minute before the radio confirmation came through, and the alarm ceased its irritating wail.  He nodded to his partner, Gus, and the rest of the backup, to aim their lights at the house and draw their sidearm.  Now, for the rat to come out of the hole.

_“Put your hands high in the air where we can see them!”_

Twenty seconds passed before a tall, pale, and scrawny figure dressed all in black, walked slowly out the front door. 

_“Put your hands up!”_

The perp hesitated, but ultimately complied.

“He’s got something in his hands.”  Gus noted.  “Looks like knives.”

It sure did; _big_ ones.

_“Drop your weapons!”_

There was no response.

_“I repeat, drop your weapons!”_

Still, the command went unheeded. 

Gus cocked his gun.

_“I’m gonna ask you one more time, and this is your last warning!  Drop your weapons!”_

When the strange man just kept getting closer, Brutus felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck. 

In his twenty years on the force, and even in the rough and tumble city, never _once_ did he end up having to shoot anyone, even to stop someone in flight, and he didn’t want to change that now, but there was something seriously off about this guy’s hollow, wide-eyed expression and the way he was holding all those blades; like claws.  He looked like a ghoul stalking victims.  The flashing red police lights weren’t helping the frightening image.  If he was really dangerous, Brutus couldn’t risk the safety of his fellow cops, nor the civilians.      

_“If you fail to do so, we’ll have to open fire!  Don’t make us do that, buddy!  Drop your weapons!”_

The strange man stepped into the street, less than ten feet from the nearest squad car.

_“DROP ‘EM!  NOW!!!”_

It was no use; this person was sick, and Brutus had to do something before he hurt someone.    

“Looks like we got a psycho.”  He said, drawing his pistol.  “Prepare to fire!”

“NO!!!  NO, DON’T SHOOT HIM!  NO!”  Came a chorus of voices around him as a swarm of people all from the neighboring houses came rushing to the blockade, as the ‘psycho’ finally paused.    

“Get back!  Everybody stay back!”

“THEY’RE HIS HANDS!  THOSE AREN’T WEAPONS!”  A woman screamed over the crowd.  “THOSE ARE HIS HANDS!  PLEASE, WE _KNOW_ HIM!”

At their collective and overwhelming urgency, Brutus carefully lowered his gun and gaped at the...appendages. 

He couldn’t _believe_ what he was seeing.  There were no fingers, at least, not of flesh and bone.  It was just scissors sprouting from the wrists!  But that was impossible! 

What...? 

How...? 

Why...? 

Who...?  

When...?

He had so many questions, none of which seemed like they could conceivably have a logical answer, but nevertheless, a crime had been committed, and he had a duty to perform.

“Alright......cu-cuff him!”

Two baffled officers twisted the poor fella’s arms behind his back and bent him over the hood of Brutus’s car, slipping the cuffs through the...rings of the scissors, where normally human knuckles would be. 

The sergeant scratched his head and toyed with the notion of being taken off the night shift, as well as maybe switching to decaf, but he _would_ leave the responsibility of describing everything to the chief to Gus this time.    


	10. Chapter 10

Dawn was bewildered.  When the sirens had woken her, and her father had run out in his bathrobe to investigate, the last thing she expected to hear when he came trudging back was that Bog had apparently been arrested for attempted burglary at the Greenway’s.   

She’d blinked at her dad for almost twenty whole seconds, unable to process the information.  It was impossible!  Boggy?  There was no _way_ he’d do something like that! 

When her father announced that they were heading to the station, she ran to her room to change, mind racing the whole time.  It wasn’t until they were actually in the car that the seeds of doubt began to sprout around her denial.  

Bog was so innocent; so impressionable, so eager to please.  Did he somehow reason that after the bank’s refusal, and her gushing over the Greenway’s money and Jackie’s renovations, that _this_ was the logical answer to their financial bind?   

She wished Sunny was here instead of spending the night at Pare’s.  He was always able to rationalize things and make her feel better when she was agitated and perplexed. 

And there was no telling where Marianne might be with her friends on a late Saturday night. 

When they arrived at the station, it was almost blindingly white and ice cold.  Several of the cops were standing around in the lobby, scratching their heads and chattering about the ‘creepy-scissor guy’. 

After they explained who they were and why they were there to the bailiff, a short, nervous, and bulgy-eyed officer named Theo Williams, led them down a long, empty hallway.

Dawn couldn’t stop asking about Bog.

“...but we can see him now?”

“Yes, you can see him now, but we’re gonna have to hold him overnight for observation.”

“He has to stay in jail all night?”

“You can take him home in the morning.”

The officer opened the door to the interrogation room, and there, sitting quietly in a plastic chair, was Bog. 

Never had he looked so small and sad, and overwhelmed with sympathy, Dawn knelt in front of him to hold his wrists, minding his still cuffed blades.

“Hi, Bog.”  She gently greeted. 

He said nothing.

“What in God’s name was going through your mind, son?”  Mr. Edwards demanded, his tone incredulous.

Bog’s face remained contrite and Dawn patted his arms soothingly, wanting to take at least partial responsibility for this...incident.     

“Oh Boggy, this is _my_ fault!  I mean, you saw how I envied the Greenway’s money!”

“And what were you gonna do with that stuff once you _had_ it?”

Dawn ignored her father, and tilted her head so Bog had to look her in the eyes.

“Bog, I know I said we’d get your money for the salon, somehow, but I _never_ meant _stealing_.  Stealing wouldn’t be the way to get it; it’s not the way to get _anything_!”

“Except trouble,” Mr. Edwards clarified, “and you’re in a serious heap of that.”

“Oh, Bog!  _Why_ did you do this?”

A thought occurred to her.

“...Did someone put you up to it?”

It made sense, but who on earth would be so cruel and manipulative? 

But Bog only bowed his head and stayed silent.  

 

* * *

 

Sergeant Brutus sipped his black coffee as the bailiff finished up “ _Bog’s_ ” paperwork.  Theo bounced on his heels next to him, watching.  He, along with most of the personnel at the station, had been aware of Bog’s presence in the town, but had more or less ignored it once it was clear he was harmless. 

However, _none_ of them had suspected that those hands were the real deal!  In fact, the general belief around the station until tonight, was that they were just elaborate gloves some poor schmuck was using to get his fifteen minutes of fame.       

“So weird...” He whispered.    

Brutus had to agree with him, but something about all this didn’t add up.  Except for the hands, the height, and intense features, this Bog guy had to be the most non-threatening, cooperative person he’d ever encountered.  He wasn’t drunk or high on anything, either.  All of Brutus’s years on the force had taught him to be pretty perceptive when it came to reading people, and the best term he could come up with for Bog was......sincere. 

It was a lucky break that the Greenway’s hadn’t decided to press charges, but the old cop didn’t buy for a second that Bog had tried to rob that house on purpose, nor alone.  Unfortunately, no matter how they’d coaxed him, he wouldn’t say a word to name anyone else that might’ve coerced him into doing it.  He was quite a loyal fella, and judging from the very nice, down-to-earth people who’d come to bail him out, the _mayor_ and his daughter he was told, he couldn’t blame him.

Still that was the tragedy of it.  Hooligans could hide so much easier in a neighborhood of law-abiding citizens with clean homes and open trust.  Though his tall, lanky, and sharp physique made him seem foreboding in every sense of the word, Bog’s shy, timid, and mute demeanor reminded Brutus more of a scared child rather than some common criminal or ghoul brought to life from a campfire story.  And life couldn’t be easy with knives for fingers.  Brutus felt nothing but pity for him.

“Yeah, well...at least he’s not dangerous......intentionally.”

“True.”

“What does the doc say about him?”

Theo’s ears flushed red at the mention of his crush, the local criminal psychologist, Dr. Stephanie Webber.   

“N-n-nothing, yet.”  He stammered, failing to hide a grin.  “She’s finishing the profile now.”

Brutus had barely downed the last of his coffee when said doctor came marching into the lobby, rifling through a folder.  Theo scurried away with a muffled giggle, and though Brutus couldn’t be sure, he thought he saw a slight blush stretch across the bridge of Dr. Webber’s nose as he passed her. 

The Sergeant shook his head at the pair’s antics as he approached the psychologist.  She was a pleasantly plump, and very intelligent young woman, but a bit too stern for his personal taste.  But, if she was what got Theo’s fire going, and vice versa, then God bless ‘em. 

“Will he be okay, doc?”

Steph glanced up at him over her wire-frame glasses and took a deep breath to explain her cynical analysis.

“The years spent in isolation have not equipped him with the tools necessary to judge right from wrong. He's had no context. He's been completely without guidance. Furthermore, his work: the garden sculptures, hairstyles and so forth, indicate that he's a highly imaginative...um...”

She shot a look in Bog’s direction.

“... _character_. It seems clear that his awareness of what we call reality is radically underdeveloped.”

“But will he be _alright_ out _there_?”

“...Oh......well, yeah...he’ll be fine.”

Brutus frowned as Stephanie strode away to wherever Theo had run off to.  It was odd, but ever since they’d brought Bog in, he felt as if he was seeing the world through new eyes.  Was _everyone_ really so callous on a regular basis, or was it just people in the medical professions?

Dismissing it, he stepped up to Bog, who’d been demurely watching his exchange with the doctor. 

A wave of protectiveness came over Brutus.  He certainly didn’t want a repeat of this, nor any other similar offence, but more so, he didn’t want this guy to fall prey to another case of bad influence.  So, he muttered low enough for only the two of them to hear: 

“Listen, it could keep me up all night worrying about you.  You watch yourself, you hear?”

Bog didn’t answer, but after a moment, he twitched in a manner that Brutus took as a nod, and left with his ‘family’. 

 

* * *

 

In contrast to the peaceful legal ending to the disturbing and puzzling ordeal, the neighborhood was in a gossiping uproar.  The once friendly blocks were now shuttered and suspicious.  Stares and hushed murmurs permeated the very atmosphere.     

Even before Bog came home the morning after, the housewives were gathered on the corner to ‘voice their concerns’ amongst themselves. 

“All along, I felt in my gut there was somethin’ wrong with him.”  Mrs. Plum sighed, taking a drag from her cigarette.

The ladies grew quiet for a moment.

“...It could’ve been my house.”  Mrs. Ruby whispered in subtle horror.

Mrs. Verbana shrugged.

“It could’ve been any of our houses, but-”

“I warned you, didn’t I?”  Rang the smug voice of Mrs. Fleason as she sauntered down the street past the women.  “I saw the sign of Satan on him.  You didn’t heed my warning, but now you will, because now you can see it too.”

She walked on with her righteous nose in the air, while the neighbors stared after her, dumbfounded.

On the other end of the street, the Edwards’ lawn was being trod on by a group of milling news reporters, cameramen, and photographers.  Dawn cursed when she saw them.  With her dad already late to work, he’d opted to take the bus to the office and let her drive Bog back to the house.  They were on their own. 

As fast as she could, she got out of the car, ran to Bog’s side and hurried him to the front door, dodging the cameras and questions, and yelling over and over again that they had nothing to say; no comments, no remarks, nothing. 

When they got inside, Sunny was sitting stiffly on the couch, and he almost jumped out of his skin when he saw them.  Once Dawn caught sight of her best friend, she ushered Bog into the basement, and collapsed into Sunny’s arms, tearfully explaining everything.

At every word, the boy felt like a bigger piece of shit, but especially when he learned that Bog hadn’t told the cops about him, Marianne, Roland, and Danny.  He couldn’t believe it.  They’d screwed him by letting him take the fall, and he’d _still_ covered for them! 

“I swear!”  Dawn wept.  “If somebody made him do this, I’ll never forgive them!  _Never_!  How could anyone do that to Boggy?  It’s just the absolute meanest thing I’ve ever heard!”

Sunny felt himself shatter, but he knew it was more than he deserved.  It served him right for even entertaining the _notion_ of Dawn liking him the way he liked her.  How could he have ever been so stupid?  And the worst part, was that he’d hurt a good friend in the process...

Eventually, Dawn leaned back, and wiped the smudged mascara from beneath her lashes. 

“Sorry, I got your shirt all wet.”

“...It’s fine.”

“Is Marianne home yet?”

“No, she c-called to say she’d stayed over at Vi’s.”  Sunny half-lied.  “She’ll be home in a few.”

Dawn sniffled and stood up on shaky legs. 

“I...I gotta call......Jackie.  Yeah...she’s supposed to come over today.”

She offered no further explanation, and just left for the phone in the master bedroom. 

Feeling sick, Sunny soon sprinted to his own room and buried his face in his pillow.  Through the wall, he caught fragments of Dawn’s conversation with Jackie.  He could tell she was attempting to sound normal, but it was clear that the damage had been done as far as the neighborhood was concerned:

“...Geez, Jackie!  It looks like I’m gonna see you at our _Christmas_ party before I get you over here for your haircut.......Of course we’re gonna have it this year; we have it _every_ year.  Why _wouldn’t_ we have it _this_ year?.....Oh.............Well you know what, Jackie?  You may _think_ that, but you’re _wrong_!” 

He barely registered the sound of Bog eventually wandering back up the basement stairs...

 

* * *

 

Marianne swiped at the angry tears as she dragged her feet up the sidewalk on her way home. 

After screaming at Roland and Danny for over ten minutes to go back for Bog, she finally snapped and demanded to be dropped off at Vi’s for the rest of the night.  Of course, Roland tried to protest, but she was having none of it.  She’d practically leapt from the van once they’d pulled up to her friend’s apartment, and didn’t even spare one glance back as they drove away. 

She hadn’t seen Vi in a week, but thankfully, she was up with her boyfriend, Aaron, watching movies, and they were both surprised, but pleased to see her.  To answer their questions about why she was so upset and out at this hour, she just told them that Roland had pissed her off (which wasn’t entirely untrue)...

...but then, the couple exchanged a look...

...and told her something _awful_ that they had witnessed on Friday night. 

The news had hit her like a truck, but she believed them, not just because she had been suspecting it for weeks, but also because of what she’d noticed peeking out of Roland’s gym back on the ride over to Vi’s.  Roland always kept his bag in Danny’s van so he could hitch a ride to the gym, but what she’d found was definitely _not_ been a pair of socks.  She hadn’t confronted him right then and there because she was so worried about Bog, she just wanted to get away from her asshole boyfriend for deliberately leaving him behind. 

Now, it was confirmed.

She was humiliated and furious.  How could she have ever loved that cheating, chattering, pig?!  How could she have let him talk her into trying to fake rob his house?!  Let alone, get Bog to help?!  She was nothing but a miserable idiot! 

When she’d finally called the house to check if the coast was clear, only Sunny answered, and told her that Bog had been arrested, and that her father and sister had left for the station before he got home. 

The thought of Bog being handcuffed and thrown into a cell made her want to fall to her knees.  She could see nothing else in her mind other than his pained blue eyes.  Since Sunny said he didn’t know when they’d all be back, and because she knew she needed to face Bog, she went ahead and decided to head home. 

She refused Vi and Aaron’s offer to drive her, and instead chose to walk the handful of blocks to her house.  As much as she didn’t want to, she felt herself slowly crumbling over Roland.  He’d been boyfriend for years.  He’d said he loved her hundreds of times.  She’d trusted him.  They’d talked about getting married after college...

...and now she knew the truth behind his Southern charm and fashion model good looks. 

 _None_ of it was real, and it never had been. 

By the time she’d turned onto her street, she was already crying, and she was mad at herself for it; for being so week, pathetic, and foolish.       

Needless to say, she was in _no_ mood to deal with the paparazzi swarming her lawn and front porch. 

She shoved them aside without giving a single response to the barrage of questions, though she _did_ catch several of them which heavily suggested Bog _hadn’t_ revealed the fact that he’d had accomplices. 

Heart and head pounding, she threw open the door and barged inside, only to freeze the instant she saw Bog standing by the curtained window, almost as if he was waiting for her.

“You’re here!”  She breathed, and instinctually crossed to him.  “They didn’t hurt you, did they?  

Bog shook his head.

“Were you scared?”

“…”

Her cheeks began to burn with guilt. 

“I’m sorry, Bog.  I tried to make Roland go back, but......you can’t make Roland do _anything_.”

“…”

It was a pitiful excuse, and she knew it.  Roland may have come up with the plan, but _she_ was the one that got Bog involved.  _She_ was to blame.  _She_ was supposed to help Sunny and Dawn protect Bog, and she’d failed.  _He_ was the only one who’d done any protecting.   

“Thank you f-for not telling them that we-” 

“Yer welcome.”

Ducking her head, she wrung her hands in front of her.  What must he think of her?  Surely, he hated her for deceiving him, and for some reason, the thought of _that_ tore her up far more than Roland’s betrayal.     

“…It must’ve been awful when they told you whose house it was.”

“I knew it was Roland’s house.”

!!!

Marianne’s stricken face shot up to meet Bog’s.

“You…you _did_?”

“Aye.”

“...Well then......why did you do it?”

“...”

“...”

“Because ye asked me to.”

Something burst in Marianne’s chest at his reply.  She’d never been so shocked in all her life.  All she could do was stand there, gaping and speechless as tingles raced through her veins and she felt herself falling into the calm, blue ocean of his devastating gaze. 

Her tears brimmed again, but for a vastly different reason.  She had brushed it all off as complete nonsense, but Roland had been _right_ all along.  Bog _did_ have feelings for her.......and they’d viciously taken advantage of them. 

Marianne wanted to run somewhere and hide, so she could sob like the bitch she was.  Even if she confused and scared, and not to mention raw over her discovery about Roland, it was painfully clear that she didn’t deserve the affections of someone so...wonderful.   

Yet, despite it all, there was a strange pull in the very marrow of her bones; a pull leading straight to Bog.  Against her better judgement, the muscles in her legs readied to take a step in his direction. 

But the moment was broken by a whistle and a shout from the backyard.     

“Buttercup!  Hey, darlin’!”

Flinching as if she’d been drenched in ice water, Marianne turned with Bog to look out the glass patio door and saw Roland strolling in through the fence gate with the widest grin on his face; as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Her chill morphed into boiling rage, and she stormed out into the yard to meet him, not noticing Bog harshly dragging his fingers down the drapes, ripping the delicate fibers to shreds. 


	11. Chapter 11

“Don’t!”  Marianne snarled, pushing Roland’s arms away when he tried to hug her, as if nothing was wrong.

Roland looked taken aback by her hostility, but was quick to scowl. 

“What’s the matter with ya?  When are ya gonna stop?  Now I did what I could.  My old man thinks he’s retarded, otherwise he’d still be in jail.  What more do ya want from me?”

“You could tell the _truth_!”

“So could _you_!  Ya were there too!”

“It wasn’t _my_ idea!  You know I didn’t wanna do it!”

“But ya _did_ do it!  An' I don’t get why ya give such a shit anyway!”

Marianne could not believe how childish he was acting.  He’d deliberately orchestrated the whole thing so that he could pass the buck around and make her feel even guiltier.  What had she _ever_ seen in him?

“It’s not just that, you asshole!  You could tell the truth about other things!”

“Like _what_?”

“Like why you were at a Motel 6 with Andrea Fletcher the day before _yesterday_?”

That obviously caught him off guard, but he recovered quickly.

“...I don’t know what yer talkin’ about!”

“Cut the bullshit!  Aaron and Vi saw you!  They described the green jacket I gave you for your birthday!”

“They’re fuckin’ _liars_!  I ain’t the only guy in the world with a green jacket, ya know! 

“Oh, yeah?”  Marianne shoved her hand into her pocket and withdrew the item she’d found last night.  “What about _these_ , huh?”

Roland froze and all the color seemed to drain from his face.

“Wh-where did ya get those?!”

“From _your_ gym bag!  Care to explain who F.G. is?  Or should I just guess that you’ve been fucking Felicia Gordon behind my back, too?!”

“Look, Marianne, it was just one little mistake...”

The whole world came to a halt and searing pain stabbed Marianne in the chest.  It was one thing to come to a logical conclusion based on gut feelings, hard evidence, and eye witness accounts, but to actually hear Roland fess up was...disarming to say the least.  Her ears rang and she felt as if she’d lost her center of gravity. 

It really was true.

He’d cheated on her.

 _Repeatedly_.

With more than one girl.

And most likely, for a long time.

“Little?!”  She croaked, but her voice was still dangerous and her glare deadly.

“Okay, okay, several!  But ya can hardly blame me, buttercup!”

“ _What_?!”

“A guy has urges, an’ when ya just weren’t willin’ to-”

She didn’t let him finish that sentence, for her fist came flying up and socked him so hard in the jaw, he fell back on his ass. 

“FUCK YOU, ROLAND!”  Marianne screamed, seething with anger. 

Was he serious? _That_ was his fucking excuse?!  After all their years together, all their dates and jokes and conversations, he cheated on her, over and _over_ again, _just_ because she wouldn’t have sex with him? 

_THAT was all he ever cared about?!_

Stunned, Roland sat up in the grass, rubbing his face. 

“What the-?  Marianne-!”

“NO, YOU SHUT UP!  HOW _DARE_ YOU BLAME THIS ON ME?!  I HAVE BEEN _NOTHING_ BUT PATIENT AND SUPPORTIVE TO YOU, BUT I DO _NOT_ , NOR WILL I EVER _OWE_ YOU SEX, YOU PIG!  TAKE YOUR FUCKING PANTIES AND GET THE _FUCK_ OUT OF MY YARD!  WE ARE _THROUGH_!”  She shouted, hurling the wadded up underwear at his head.  “AND DON’T YOU _EVER_ SPEAK TO ME AGAIN YOU LOUSY, CHEATING SON OF A BITCH!”

With that, she turned on her heel and stomped back into her house, locking the patio door behind her and ignoring Roland’s persistent knocks and pleas.  

 

* * *

 

While the ex-couple had still been arguing outside, Sunny must’ve dozed off because a sharp scraping sound, jolted him awake.  Confused, he stepped out of his room and saw two identical scratches on the walls, leading all the way down the hall to the bathroom door, which was partially open.  He heard snipping and more scraping sounds coming from inside, and even saw the shower curtain and towels being tossed around. 

Suddenly very on edge, he crept up to the door, and peeked into the bathroom, only to gasp out loud at the scene before him.

Bog was standing at the bathroom sink.  He had shredded the towels and shower curtain, and was currently staring at himself in the mirror with an agonized expression, like his reflection was physically hurting him, as he slowly and repeatedly dragged his blades down the walls on either side of the frame, slicing the floral wallpaper and carving gouges into the plaster.   

Scared for him, and knowing he was partly to blame for Bog being in this state, Sunny slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.  Thank God, Dawn was still on the phone. 

“Bog, stop!”  The teen begged, grabbing Bog’s arms.  “Stop, man!”

Bog only offered minimal resistance, but soon gave into Sunny desperate pulls and allowed him to guide him over to sit on the lip of the bathtub. 

“I’m sorry!”  Sunny whispered, breaking down into muted sobs, and burying his head in Bog’s shoulder.  “Oh God, Bog, I’m so sorry!” 

 

* * *

 

“Well, we’re gonna try to help you find a way to replace the drapes and the towels, but our confidence in you, Bog, is not gonna be so easy to replace.”  Mr. Edwards sighed, later that evening at the dinner table. 

He was not in the best of moods.  As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough to find out that your guest had been caught attempting to rob a house, the fact that David was the _mayor_ made this whole thing a terrible scandal.  The calls at work were nonstop, reporters surrounded the office, and even his campaign manager had nagged him about it all the way to the bus top when he left for home. 

If it had been Marianne, Dawn, or Sunny who had pulled a similar stunt, he would’ve blown his stack, but the only two things that were keeping his temper in check was one, Bog was not his child, and two, he truly believed that Bog was just too naive to know any better.  He’d been alone for so long, who had taught him basic moral values? 

No, now wasn’t the time to punish or scold, what Bog needed was education. 

 _But if this ever happens again, I’m sorry but...he won’t be allowed to stay in my house anymore._  

It may have been cruel, but he had a reputation to uphold in this community if he wanted to keep his job and ensure his daughters' and Sunny’s futures.  Besides, no one appreciated having their kindness taken advantage of. 

“Dad...”  Marianne groaned, but he ignored her.

“Okay,” David began, “a little ethics: you’re walking down the street, you fine a suitcase full of money, there’s nobody around; no human person is in evidence.  What do you do?  A, you keep the money.  B, you use it to buy gifts for your friends and your loved ones.  C, you give it to the poor.  D, you turn it into the police.”

Marianne huffed.

“Dad, this is really stupid.”

“Marianne,” Dawn softly chided, “dad’s just trying to help.”

She didn’t like it any more than her big sister, but if Bog could be so easily persuaded and if his logic was so flawed, it was a problem that _needed_ to be addressed.  What if it happened again, and next time he got hurt...or _worse_?

“Well, Bog?”  Mr. Edwards prompted.

“Hey, how about after dinner we go down to the bowling alley?”  Marianne piped up before Bog could answer.  “That’ll be fun.”

Dawn cocked her head at her.

“You’re not seeing Roland tonight?”

“ _No_.” 

Out of pride, she hadn’t told anyone about what had happened, but the implication of how much she’d neglected her family for that creep over the years made Marianne want to kick something; preferably, Roland’s crotch.  

“You know we had the coolest Biology class today?”  Sunny piped up, as desperate as Marianne to ease the tension and distract from Bog.  “This girl brought in a box of baby possums; ten, maybe twelve.  Totally naked, no hair at all-!”

Dawn touched his arm to stop him.

“Sunny, could you tell us about that later?  I don’t think dad’s finished yet.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” Her father nodded.  “Bog, we’re waiting.”

Bog, who’d been staring at his lap ever since he’d been served his food, slowly and nervously raised his head. 

“...Give it to mah luved ones?”  He whispered. 

Mr. Edwards shook his head in disappointment, but Marianne just smiled.

“Oh Boggy,” Dawn soothed as best she could, “it does seem like that’s what you should do, but it’s _not_.” 

Ashamed, Bog ducked his head again.

“...You’re supposed to...give it to the police, Bog.”  Sunny muttered, wanting to crawl under his chair.  It was already awkward enough sitting next to Marianne; the two of them could barely look each other in the eye. 

“Good thinking, Sunny.”  Mr. Edwards praised.

Unable to endure the sadness on Bog’s face, and the discomfort of the conversation, Marianne rose to his defense. 

“Well... _think_ about it, you guys!  I mean, that’s the _nicer_ thing to do.  That’s what _I_ would do!”

“We’re not trying to confuse him, we’re trying to make things a little easier for him,” her dad frowned, “so let’s cut the comedy, alright?”     

“I _am_ being serious, dad, it’s a much nicer thing to do!”

“Well, we’re _not_ talking _nice_!  We’re talking right and _wrong_!”

Sunny coughed, but in Marianne’s agitation, it sounded like a chuckle to her.

“Shut up!”  She snapped, smacking his arm.

“For God’s sake, no wonder Boggy can’t learn right from wrong!”  Dawn exclaimed, rising from the table with her empty plate.  “Living in _this_ family!” 

 

* * *

 

_Well did you hear what he did to their curtains?_

_It’s unbelievable that they’re having their Christmas party anyway.  Are you going?_

_I don’t think so._

_He practically raped Sugar, you know.  Threatening her with those knives of his?  It’s a miracle she escaped!_

_I don’t have anything against David, but..._

_I know, I know!  He’s got those girls in the house!  Oh, those poor things, after what happened to me!  Can you imagine?_

_What did you say about the Christmas party?_

_I said I hoped we could make it._

_I lied too._

 

* * *

 

A few weeks passed, but Bog stayed in the house to avoid the poisonous whispers and stares of the neighbors.  The reporters petered out, and now the phone only rang if it was Roland wanting to talk to Marianne.  He got hung up on every time. 

Marianne herself, watched Bog as he performed various helpful chores: chopping food, snipping threads for Dawn’s sewing, and trimming the blossoming hedges.  As the holiday season got closer and closer, but the air only got a slight nip, a warm glow in her heart grew stronger and stronger each time she saw him. 

As for Sunny, he was much less cheerful than normal.  He brushed it off whenever Dawn noticed and asked him about it.  His only reprieve was community college.  Both he and Dawn had been taking classes when fall had started, though they didn’t have any together.  For the first time in his life, he was glad for that.  It was hard enough facing her, Marianne, and Bog at home every day, knowing what he’d done. 

Today, he was finally through with his exams, and was on his way back to the house.  He’d been taking the alleyways to and from campus so he wouldn’t have to deal with the now suspicious and gossiping neighbors. 

About a block from home, he was startled by a figure stepping out from behind a trashcan. 

“Roland!  Geez, you scared the hell outta me!”

“Sorry, buddy.”  He said, not sounding sorry at all.  “I was just wonderin' if ya could do me a favor.”

“What is it?”

“Lemme borrow that bottle I gave ya.”

For a beat, Sunny was confused, until he remembered.  Oh yeah, the mysterious reason why he’d been allowed to tag along on that awful night.  He was even wearing the same jacket!  He’d forgotten all about the perfume in his pocket for nearly a month.  There was no point anymore in trying to woo Dawn, but maybe it could be a harmless Christmas present instead?

“Sure, man.”  He said, fishing into his pocket.  “What do you need it for?”

“Ah, Marianne’s bein’ crazy.  I just need somethin' to calm her down an' make her listen to reason.”

 _That_ made Sunny pause.

“...I thought you guys broke up.”

Roland snorted.

“It’s just a misunderstandin'.  This’ll fix things.”

He reached for the bottle, but Sunny took a step back.  

“How can _this_ ‘fix things’?  Marianne doesn’t like perfume.”   

Roland blinked at him before an incredulous smile spread across his lips.

“ _Perfume_?  Heh, I never said that was perfume.”

Sunny’s stomach went numb and a chill spread over his skin.

“...Then what _is_ this stuff?”

Roland stared at him for a few seconds, before explaining in a tone that was casual, but possessed a disturbing edge.

“It’s just somethin’ to help Marianne relax an' be more… _receptive_.”

Reality slammed into Sunny, knocking the breath out of him.  His hands began to shake.

“Wait…is…is _this_ ……is this a _date rape_ drug?!”

“Wall, that’s kinda crude,” Roland shrugged, “but I guess it could be used fer that, with the right dosage.”

His... _indifference_ filled Sunny with equal parts fury and dead, and he threw the bottle into the dirt as if it was radioactive.  He wished it would break apart, but the intricate metal casing around the glass prevented that.

“You…you sick _bastard_!”  Sunny cried.  “I could’ve given that to _Dawn_!”

Unfazed, Roland scooped up the bottle and swished it around. 

“So, what’s the problem? Ya want her don’t ya?”

“Wha-!  Y-yes, but...not like _that_!  That’s so _wrong_!” 

“Oh, relax!  One whiff wouldn’t knock her out!  Plum uses this stuff all the time!”

“What?!”

“Why do ya think everybody keeps messin’ around with her?  Or keeps eatin’ her crappy food at the barbecues?”

_The fuchsia salad!_

“No...”

“Sure, it’s addictive!  She just sprinkles a bit onto herself, or into her food or drinks, an' dependin' on how much she uses, it _literally_ draws the flies to Sugar!”

Sunny didn’t laugh with Roland.  He was so horrified, he wanted to vomit, and he felt like the lowest form of scum for being dumb enough to trust this...this psycho.      

But overriding everything, was an alarm bell in his brain, telling him that Roland now had the bottle.  And he was intending to use it on Marianne!

He _couldn’t_ let that happen. 

“Give it back, Roland.”

All traces if humor left the older guy’s face, and he slipped the bottle into his own pocket.

“No way.”

“Then, I-I...I’m gonna call the police!  I’m gonna tell _Mr. Edwards_!” 

Sunny turned to flee, but Roland was faster.  He seized the teenager by the arm, spun him around, and then punched him full in the gut.

The impact, knocked Sunny off his feet and he fell to the ground, curling into a ball and gasping for breath.  His insides throbbed and tears beaded at the corner of his eyes.  He’d never been hit like that before, so he absolutely couldn’t move, not even when a steady pressure came down on his head; Roland’s foot.

“Ya say one word about this to _anyone_ , ya little shit,” Roland sneered in a voice that raised the hair on the back of Sunny’s neck, “an' I’ll just rat _you_ out.  Who do ya think they’re gonna believe?  The son of the richest people in the neighborhood?  Or a worthless, black orphan livin' with a _criminal_?  Can’t even imagine what Mr. Edwards would do to ya if he found out ya’ve been lustin' after his little girl all this time, _and_ almost _roofied_ her!”

“...Y-you're-!  You're... _wrong_!”  Sunny choked.  “Mr...Edwards...kn-knows me!  I’m...l-like......a s-son to...him!  H-he knows...I’d n-never-!”

“Don’t kid yerself, **_boy_**.  Ya’ll _never_ be _real_ ‘family’ to them; an' deep down, ya  _know_ it.  Did ya really think yer _height_ was yer _only_ disadvantage?”     

Roland’s words cut like razors and no matter how much Sunny tried to fight it, his doubt sprang up like spiky roots, wrapping around his soul, and crushing it to dust. 

Roland spit just inches from Sunny’s nose.

“Remember, keep yer mouth shut, or I’m spilling the beans, an' then I’ll come fer _you_ , got it?”

“I...I g-got it.”

“Good.”

Then, with one last push on Sunny’s head, Roland strolled out of the alleyway, leaving the eighteen year old crumpled and coughing.

 

* * *

 

“Bog, are you going to give me that new haircut?”  Dawn asked as she finished assembling the fake Christmas tree they were going to decorate this weekend, for the party.

“Again?”

“Yeah, sure!  Makes me proud to have you as my own personal hairdresser.”

In truth, Dawn was very stressed about how everyone was acting.  The neighbors were cold, her father was distant, Marianne was grumpy and silent, and even Sunny seemed depressed and withdrawn, but no one would talk to her!  It made her sad, to think she was being deliberately locked out.  She was worried and upset too! 

To cope, she mothered Bog more and more.  Having him cut her hair nearly every week, since none of his regular customers would come anymore.  Always finding something for him to help prepare at dinner.  Constantly praising and chatting with him, while keeping him within her sights as often as possible, as if she was afraid he’d disappear. 

Just as she sat in the chair for Bog to get to work, the garage door opened and a rather disheveled looking Sunny came trudging into the kitchen.

“Hi, Sunny!”  She greeted.

“...hey.”

Bog followed him to the fridge.

“Sunny, do ye wanna play Rock, Paper, Scissors?” 

The teen hid his flinch by taking a soda.

“No.”

“Why?”

“It’s _boring_...I’m tired of always winning.”

“Sunny!”  Dawn scolded, seeing how he appeared to be on edge, but not excusing his rudeness. 

“I’ll be in my room!”

“A few manners would be appreciated!”  The blonde yelled after him, but the slam of a door was her only reply. 

She bit back the sting of rejection and patted Bog’s arm comfortingly. 

“Oh, don’t mind him, Boggy, just...cut away!  Cut away...”


	12. Chapter 12

All too soon, the week was over, and it was Friday evening; the day before Christmas Eve.  Though the weather refused to fit the season, staying staunchly in the lower 60s, the neighborhood was decked out in festive twinkle lights, holiday greetings, manger scenes, and Santa and his reindeer figures. 

Inside the Edwards’ house, Marianne and Dawn were dressed for the party, and decorating their fake tree.  Snacks and drinks were laid out on the table, scented candles were lit, and carols played lowly in the background. 

They could hear their father jovially singing “I Saw Three Ships” through the ceiling as he put a few last minute decorations on the roof.  To rid himself of the stress he’d endured the past few weeks, he’d been drinking spiked eggnog since five o’ clock, but they weren’t worried about him falling and breaking his neck.  He could hold his alcohol like a steel safe.

Dawn had been rather quiet and distracted all day.  No one had RSVP’d, and she kept acting as if that didn’t bother her, but Marianne saw her mask crack when Sunny announced that he was going over to Pare’s, and wouldn’t be back until late.  Dawn had watched him leave with a sad pinch in her eyes, but she almost immediately brushed it off and went right back to preparing for the guests that she was sure were still coming. 

After all, it was a tradition their mother started, and that they’d kept all these years.  They had to come!  

They just _had_ to.

It hurt Marianne to see her sister so in denial, as well as dejected and confused about Sunny’s standoffish behavior, but what could she do?  The neighbors she honestly didn’t give two shits about, but it wasn’t like she could confront Sunny when she knew exactly what the problem was, and she was just as at fault, if not more so. 

Still, she _did_ want to have a talk with him later because recently, he’d been extra taciturn and even jumpy.  She worried about how hard he was taking the guilt.

Plus, she was unnerved by what he’d murmured to her this morning without any other explanation. 

 _Please...be careful, Marianne._    

She wondered if it had anything to do with Roland.   

“It needs something...”  Dawn muttered to herself, gazing absently at the plastic branches, and bringing Marianne out of her thoughts. 

“...More bells?”

“...More bells!”

Marianne handed her a tinkling, silver one, and hung up another red ball. 

“Dawn, do you really think we should be having this party?”

“Sure, I do!  I think it’s just what we need to get things back to normal around here.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Do we have anymore bells?”

Sighing, Marianne turned and crossed the living room to check the extra ornament boxes.  The skirt of her satin, off-the-shoulder, aubergine cocktail dress swished around her legs.  It may not have been very Christmas-y, but hell if she cared.  It was one of her favorites, and it matched her distinctly non-merry mood.     

Just as she was rifling through the tissue paper in search of another bell, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye, beyond the patio door.  Looking over, she froze when saw something that had to be impossible. 

Snow.

.

.

.

It couldn’t be. 

They _never_ got snow.

Ever! 

They lived too far south.

But there it was: little flecks of white drifting to the grass. 

However, it didn’t take her long to notice some...inconsistencies.  Now, she was no expert of course, but wasn’t snow supposed to fall from all parts of the sky and not look as if it was pouring from one designated area?

Curious, Marianne crept up to the patio door and stepped outside.  Rounding the corner of the house, the mystery was solved, and all she could do was stare in awe.

It was Bog.

She had completely forgotten that as a treat for the party, her father had ordered a giant block of ice for Bog to carve into whatever shape he wanted, and currently, he was on a tall stepladder, furiously hacking away at the structure to create a gorgeous praying Christmas angel!

The snow was from the chips of ice he was cutting away, transforming the backyard into the most breathtaking winter wonderland Marianne had ever seen!

Childlike joy bubbled up in Marianne’s chest, and as if swept away by magic, she raised her arms and began dancing into the flurry. 

The air was crisp enough for her breath to fog, adding to the fantasy, as she spun in slow circles.  Her hands opened to the sky, feeling the soft ice shavings trickle through her fingers and roll off her palms.  She tilted her head back, drowning in a swirling sea of stars and flakes.  They caught in her hair, sparkling like diamonds in a tiara.  The back of her neck and her cheeks tickled, like a lover’s teasing kiss.  Her lips spread into a loving smile.    

It was as if she was a fairy princess in a snow globe.  She wanted it to go on forever.  All was safe, silent, and heartbreakingly beautiful. 

And it was all Bog’s doing.   

He had not seen her.  His frown of concentration remained unbroken as he formed this world of crystal dreams around her, and Marianne felt her soul swell with an emotion she’d barely had a taste of these past few years.  God, what life had she been living before she met him? 

She had to go to him.  What she would do when she reached him, she had no clue, but it didn’t matter; she just needed to be near him.  Always. 

Satisfied with his work, Bog began to climb down the ladder, and Marianne moved to meet him at the base as the last of the frozen shavings poured over her.  She reached towards him and opened her mouth to say his name-  

“HEY!”

At the interrupting shout, Bog, still a few rungs up, whirled around and a single blade flew out.

Fire lanced across Marianne’s right hand, and she recoiled with a sharp gasp.  Their private moment was shattered and reality came back with searing pain. 

The interruption had come from none other than Roland, who was stalking in through the fence gate, looking furious.

Alarmed at what he’d done, Bog hurried down the rest of the ladder to Marianne’s side.  He trembled at the crimson blood rapidly coating her flesh. 

“Now ya’ve done it.”  Roland growled, balling his fists and advancing on Bog.

“It’s just a scratch, Roland.”  Marianne said, trying to keep Bog calm more than anyone else.  “Really, it’s fine.”

But as usual, Roland didn’t listen, and he shoved Bog back.

“Stay _back_ , ‘kay?”

“Roland, stop!  It’s no big-!”

“Ya touch her again an' I’ll kill ya!”

“It’s _no_ big _deal_!  It’s just a-!”

“What’s going on?”  Came the voice of her sister, who was jogging out into the yard.

“Call a doctor.”  Roland ordered, before Marianne could answer.  “He skewered Marianne.”

“No!  He didn’t skewer me!”

Her protests fell on deaf ears the instant Dawn saw the gushing wound, and she hurried Marianne towards the house.

Bog, anxious and remorseful, made to follow them, but Roland blocked him.

“Stay away from her, okay?  I mean it!”  He snapped, pushing him again, but harder.  “Ya can’t touch anythin’ without destroyin’ it.  Who the hell do ya think ya are hangin’ around here anyway, _huh_?”

Bog seemed as if he was going to burst into tears, and Marianne tried to yell at Roland to leave him alone, but she was too late once her sister pulled her indoors and the men were out of view.

“I want you to sit right down and wait for me to bring you some ice; stay right there!”  Dawn instructed, guiding Marianne to the couch and running to the kitchen to dig in the freezer.  Her father kept belting from the roof. 

' _Oooooooon Christmas Day in the mooooooorning!_ ” 

“Get the hell _outta_ here!”  She heard Roland bark, and the volume made her flinch.  “GO ON!  GO!  FREAK!”

“Hey, Boooog!”  She heard her dad slur.  “Where ya goin’?”    

That was the last straw.

No longer feeling the sting from her palm, Marianne jumped off the couch and rushed back outside, only to find Bog gone.

“Where is he?”  She demanded, glaring daggers at Roland.

“He tried to hurt ya.”

“No he did _not_ , and you _know_ it!”

“Are ya _nuts_?  I just saw him!”

“Roland, for the _last_ time, I don’t love you anymore.  It’s _over_!  I just want you to go, okay?  Just go!”

Roland’s face darkened catching onto to something deeper in her expression.

“Are ya _serious_?  _I_ lose ya to _that_?!  He isn’t even _human_!”

“JUST GET THE _FUCK_ OUT OF HERE, OKAY?!  JUST **_GO_**!”

She slapped him with her uninjured hand for emphasis, and for one brief moment, she saw _murder_ in her ex’s eyes, but the sound of her father approaching made him slink away into the night.

“Dad!”  Marianne cried, going to him.  “Did you see where Bog went?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”  He shrugged.  “He just waltzed down the street.”

“Well, we have to go find him, he-!”

She was cut off, by Dawn, now toting a first aid kit and an ice pack, grabbing her arm and leading her inside again.

“ _Dad_ will find him, Marianne!  Come back here!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it, I’ll go find him!”  Mr. Edwards sang, tossing the left over roll of foam snow he’d been stapling to the roof on the patio. 

He then strolled out of the yard with his hands in his pockets, whistling an obliviously happy tune, far too tipsy to realize the severity of the situation.     

 

* * *

 

A block away, Bog was storming through the neighborhood in a cloud of anger and confusion.  He slashed at the dress shirt and pants Dawn had given him, shredding them to rags, and then tossing them off to the pavement. 

As he passed Mrs. Verbana’s house, he chopped off the leg of the ballerina topiary he’d made her all those months ago.

Mrs. Verbana herself, saw him from the window.

“Bog!”  She hollered, rapping on the glass.  “I’m calling the police!”

He ignored her, stabbed one of his knives into the tire of another neighbor’s blue car, and moved on.    

 

* * *

 

Mrs. Fleason’s living room was adorned with crucifixes and ablaze with reverent candles, and while the rest of the neighborhood sinned with alcohol, materialism, and the pagan worship of a fat man in a sleigh, _she_ was playing Christmas hymns on her organ, as any _good_ god-fearing, single woman _should_ be doing at this time of year. 

She was just getting through the second verse of “We Three Kings” when she thought she heard something outside.   

Assuming she was just hearing things, she focused in her music and changed chords...

...but then she heard it again.

Glancing at the front windows, she felt a chill when she caught a glimpse of a shadow ducking out of sight. 

Nervous, but determined to catch any evil-doers that would dare profane this holy collection of evenings, she slowly made her way to the curtains and threw them back. 

A huge, horned demon with glowing red eyes and yellow fangs was glowering at her from the other side of the window.

Heart in her throat, Mrs. Fleason leapt back with a tremendous scream, but quickly realized that it wasn’t in fact, the devil, but a harmless topiary with Christmas lights arranged in such a way as to look like a monster.  Someone had purposefully done this to frighten her. 

And she knew _exactly_ who it was. 

 

* * *

 

“Heh, gee, all that blood and it was just a little cut.”  Dawn chuckled as she wrapped Marianne’s hand in a clean bandage. 

Marianne half smirked at the statement, but her mind was miles away. 

Their father hadn’t come back yet, and as the minutes ticked by, her concern for Bog was making her very uneasy.  What Roland had said was unforgivably cruel, and she could only imagine how his words had affected poor Bog.  She needed to see him, to comfort him, to tell him everything was okay.

 _And how much I-_     

Just then, the doorbell rang, and both sisters paused.  It obviously wasn’t their dad, nor Bog, and as much as she wanted to be wrong for Dawn’s sake, Marianne had a feeling it wasn’t the party guests either.  

Regardless, Dawn rose from the couch to answer it. 

Straightening her dress, she opened the door, only to discover that it definitely wasn’t one of their neighbors on the porch.

It was Officer Brutus.

“Miss Edwards, I’m here to see the man with the hands.”

Marianne stood up, her pulse racing.  Had something happened?  Was Bog hurt? 

Dawn just gaped at the cop.  Her stomach dropped and she was suddenly very frightened, desperately wishing to know where Bog was and if he was alright. 

“...Oh......u-um...”

“He’s not here.”  Brutus concluded solemnly before tipping his hat and returning to his squad car.  “Thank you, miss.”

Dawn and Marianne looked at each other, both trying and failing to keep the panic at bay. 

They had to find Bog, and _fast_.


	13. Chapter 13

“Helen, did you actually _see_ him?”

“Yeah!  Look what he _did_!”

“I saw him pass by my window!”

“What should we do?”

“He’s lost it!”

“I told you he was a demon!”

“Oh, don’t start that stuff again!”

Brutus rolled his eyes as he pulled up to the corner where a group of the neighborhood housewives were frantically speaking over each other.  Having to get information from a bunch of hysterical, clucking hens convinced him even more that this all was just a misunderstanding.  After the way he’d noticed the town change its attitude towards Bog, he couldn’t personally blame the guy for evidently getting upset and doing a little property damage, most of which was stuff he’d made for his so called ‘friends’. 

Still, he had to do his job and find they guy, maybe give him a stern lecture, and then take him home.  The mayor could afford to fix a tire, and who the hell cared about some damn bushes? 

“Ladies, I’m looking for the man with the scissors.”  

“Thank God you’re here!”

“You have to do something!”

“He went that way.”

As he’d expected, several of them pointed in several _different_ directions.  Great.

“Alright,” he sighed, “calm down!  Go on home, we’ll handle it, thank you.  Just go home, _please_.”

He drove on, trying to filter out the rest of their panicked chatter.

“He’s a demon!  A _demon_!”

“You’ve gotta stop him!”

“Let’s see if he’s at our houses!”

“Come on!  Come _on_!” 

 

* * *

 

Marianne paced the floor of the living room, feeling like a caged tigress.  She’d desperately wanted to run out the door and look for Bog, but not five seconds after the Sergeant left, Dawn pointed out that they couldn’t leave because their dad hadn’t taken his keys, and he’d be locked out of the house if he came back and they were gone, and flatly Dawn refused to either go, or be left, by herself.  So, they could do nothing but sit and wait for their father, or better yet, Bog, to come home. 

“I’m sure daddy will find him soon.”  Dawn said, trying to soothe her obviously anxious sister.

“What _time_ is it?”

Dawn checked the clock.

“It’s almost eight thirty.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...Great party, huh?”

Marianne flopped down onto the couch, too worried to even offer a fake laugh at Dawn’s attempted humor.

“God, I hope he’s ok.” 

“So do I.”

They sat in silence for a few beats, before Dawn bowed her head and fisted her skirt in her hands.

“You know,” she began in a voice that was alarmingly tired, “when I brought Bog down here to live with us…I really didn’t think things through.  You were right.  I never thought about what could happen to him…or to us...or to the neighborhood.”

Her sister looked at her, face ashen.

Tears brimmed in Dawn’s eyes and she breathed the rest as if it was the most shameful of confessions.

“...Now I think…maybe it would be best if he goes…back up there……because at least up there, he’s _safe_.  And we’d just......go back to the way things...used to be.” 

Marianne clenched her teeth to keep from crying herself.  Dawn, the most patient and caring person she’d ever known, was giving up.  The harsh tragedy of it was staggering, and especially because she herself had been against Bog staying with them at first, but she wrapped her arms around her sister and held her as she whimpered. 

After a few agonizing minutes, they both stood at the sound of their father coming in through the patio door.

“Well, I got halfway to the Whitman’s, but I didn’t see him anywhere.”  He announced, still very buzzed.

“Let’s get in the car and look for him!”  Dawn suggested, already grabbing her coat off the rack. 

Their father grunted vaguely as he scanned the living room, squinting in confusion.

“Where’s Sunny?”

“He’s at Pare’s!” 

“Oh for God’s sake!”  He groaned, turning to the front door to see his daughters heading out. 

He certainly wasn’t sober enough to deal with _both_ of them in the car with him right now.  One had to stay, they had guests coming or whatever. 

Marianne was closer and had a bandage on her hand.

Decision made.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going, young lady?”

Marianne frowned at him.

“ _With_ you guys!”

“No, you’re staying here in case somebody shows up!”

His eldest opened her mouth to argue, but Dawn intercepted her.

“We’ll be right back, Marianne!”

With that, the door shut and locked, leaving Marianne on her own. 

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take Brutus too long to locate Bog.  From his vantage point at the end of the road, he spotted him hallway down the street, sitting forlornly at the end of a driveway, twiddling his _fingers_.

Once again, he felt sorry for the poor guy.  He was paying the price for his selflessness.  All he’d done up until now was show everyone else generosity and trust, and look how they repaid him after one incident that _clearly_ was not his fault! Brutus admired him.  He was not a delinquent, he was just lonely and upset.

As if to prove the point, he watched as a bushy-haired dog came trotting up to Bog’s side.  The pale man eyed it for a moment, before reaching over and snipping a clump of hair out of the pooch’s eyes, so it could see better.  The mutt licked his face and then ran off. 

Brutus smiled and turned his idling vehicle in Bog’s direction with the intention of driving up to him and peacefully bringing him home.   

Unfortunately, Bog saw the flashing lights of his squad car before he could get close enough, and he hurried away at a brisk pace. 

The officer cursed, and tried to catch up, but lost him when Bog slipped between two houses and into a heavily shadowed alleyway.  

 

* * *

 

At least an hour went by with literally nothing.  No phone calls, no visitors, no Bog. 

To keep form going stir crazy, Marianne busied herself with putting the snacks and drinks away, since there was no point anymore. 

She was so immersed in her task, she nearly missed the faint sound of footsteps outside.  Shutting the fridge, she listened hard, and almost immediately, she heard the unmistakable sound of the front door lock being picked.

Bog!

The door swung open and she watched him step hesitantly into the empty living room.  He didn’t seem to be injured, thank goodness, but she could practically taste his inner turmoil though his posture alone. 

She went to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to face her.

“Bog?”

When his eyes met hers, she saw the guilt for the pain he’d unintentionally caused her; guilt he had no need to feel.

“Are ye okay?”

“Yes, are _you_ okay?”

He nodded.

“…Where is everybody?”

“Out looking for you.”

“…”

God, how he looked at her!  How did he make her feel as if she was melting _and_ flying at the same time?  Like she was the most beautiful, capable, and precious creature on this earth?

She didn’t know.  All she _did_ know, was that she wanted to be in his arms, and nowhere else.        

“Hold me.”  She whispered.   

Slowly, but obediently, he lifted his arms to her.  His razor sharp blades twitched dangerously close to her head.  She didn’t even bat an eye at them, because from the depths of her heart, she trusted him; with her whole life. 

But he didn’t the trust _himself_.

She watched his face crumple in misery and he swallowed.

“I can’t.”

He moved away to the window then, but if he thought she was going to let him go that easily, he was sorely mistaken.  She would show him how. 

Joining him at the window, she carefully hoisted his left arm over her shoulder, and his right followed suit, keeping his hands away from her delicate skin, but giving them both what they wished for. 

Marianne rested her head against his chest, wanting to giggle at how, despite his appearance, he was perfectly warm to the touch.  She wondered if perhaps his outfit of leather and belt straps was not clothing at all, but rather the equivalent of flesh to him, keeping his inner workings together and functioning.  Regardless, she clutched him to her, and listened to his gentle heartbeat against her ear, feeling more content and safe than she could have ever dreamed.  His scent of books and cookies filled her senses and she hummed in pleasure.   

Bog rested his cheek in her hair, regretting how this all could have been so different, had it not been for one terrible change...

 

* * *

 

" _I know it’s a little early for Christmas, sweetheart, but……I have a present for you.”_

_The lid of the box wrapped in holly berry red came off and Griselda pulled them out; two male human hands, extending halfway up the forearm. The last pieces to add for Bog to be complete._

_Bog stared in silent, childlike wonder as his mother brought his gift over for him to examine.  They were only wax figures, but the message was clear: he would have his real hands made and attached by Christmas._

_Scissors twitching with reigned, but nonetheless potent excitement, Bog raised his hands to gently inspect the new parts, admiring their shape and size, as well as the fine sculpture of the long fingers and the smoothness of the fair skin._

_Pleased by his amazement, Griselda moved the hands over Bog’s in a way to give him an idea of what it would be like when she made the real ones for him.  Where his right hand went, so did the one she held, and same for the left._

_His tender blue eyes met hers in a sweet, grateful smile, which she gladly returned._

_She watched Bog was several more moments, even feeling her heart flutter when his lips even curiously brushed against the tip of one of the fingers, and for once, there was no cut left behind._

_It was wonderful._

_...except the flutter in her heart didn’t cease.  Instead, it tightened to a gradually painful degree._

_Griselda’s grin sank as the dreadful realization of what was happening dawned on her, and she was powerless to stop it._

_Bog noticed the shift in her expression and blinked at her, not understanding._

_Not that it would’ve made a difference.  It was too late._

_Griselda’s eyes glazed and her knees buckled, pressing the faux hands directly into Bog’s blades and running them through with her body weight as she collapsed to the floor._

_Dead._

_Bog looked down at his ruined present; the palms gouged out and the fingers severed.  He turned to his prone mother and reached out to touch her face, to wake her.  He would now never feel the fading warmth of her cheek, and his loving pet left behind a streak of angry red.  He peered at the blood staining his blades; blood that would now always stain his inhuman hands whenever he tried to touch what he could now never be._

_He was alone._

_He was not finished._

And yet, despite everything, if _she_ was willing to care for him, embrace him _,_ trust him.  Could there be hope?  No matter how faint?

He had no answer, but for now, he was content to just be with Marianne for as long as she wanted him.

 

* * *

 

“Forget holdin' her hand.  Picture the damage he could do other places!”

Danny, Derek, and Dylan all chuckled at the horrible and filthy image Roland’s drunken comments had brought to mind.  He’d come over, pissed and ranting about Marianne dumping him for that ‘knife-y freak’, and demanding that they all pile into the van and go somewhere to down a few bottles of Jack.  And of course, wanting any excuse to escape the sappy, family togetherness of the holiday season, the triplets had obliged. 

Dylan opened another bottle and passed it to Roland.

“Heh, yeah!” 

“That’s sick.”  Derek said, nudging Danny, who wasn’t looking so hot. 

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out or puke, or something.”

“Later.  First take me to her house.”  Roland ordered. 

Had Danny been in a better state of mind, and possessed any balls at all when it came to dealing with his friend, he would’ve flat out refused.  He would’ve seen that Roland wasn’t drinking to just make light of situation or even feel better.  He was plotting, and whatever it was, was dangerous.

“Oh come on, Roland, don’t make me drive!”  Danny complained, inwardly bemoaning (and not for the first time) the fact that he was the oldest of his brothers by seven minutes, and therefore, the only one allowed to have the keys.

But Roland wasn’t having it.

“Just _do_ it!”

Danny scowled at him, but ultimately climbed over the cooler towards the front seat, muttering the whole way. 

“Jesus, maybe she _was_ right about you.”

“JUST DRIVE!”

“ _Relax_ , man!”

Fumbling with his seat belt, Danny took a deep breath before turning on the ignition.  His head was spinning, and his stomach burned, but maybe it would be alright.  He knew this was risky, but...the Edwards’ place wasn’t far and it was pretty late.  No one would be walking or driving around at this hour. 

He put the van in gear and tapped the gas.

Yeah, it’d be fine.  Nothing would happen.

 

* * *

 

Several blocks away, Sunny waved goodbye to Pare, and started his trek back home.  Save for the Christmas lights and sparse streetlamps, the neighborhood was eerily dark and even disturbingly quiet, and as much as Sunny liked Bog’s topiaries in broad daylight, they could be somewhat creepy at night.

He ducked under the neck of a looming Brontosaurus. 

The spooky atmosphere was getting to him so much that he jumped when he heard a voice call out to him.

“Have they caught him yet?”

Whirling around, he saw that it was Mr. Burton, sitting on a lawn chair in his open garage; watching like it was the Fourth of July.

“Uh...who?”

“Him!”  The man repeated, and made pinching gestures with his hands like a crab.  “That...that _cripple_!”

Sunny was shocked, both at Mr. Burton’s hypocrisy from the barbecue, and the implication that Bog was in trouble again.  Too annoyed to give the old turd any satisfaction, he just curtly shook his head.

Mr. Burton shrugged.

“Let me know when they do.”

 _As if!_ The teen though bitterly as he went on down the sidewalk without another word or glance.

“Let us all know, okay?  Like a _good_ boy?”

Biting back a retort, Sunny just shoved his hand deeper into his pockets and walked faster.  There was an odd screech of tires in the distance, but he paid it no mind.  He just wanted to get back to the house and talk to Dawn. 

It was time to tell her the truth.    


	14. Chapter 14

The navy blue van swerved and skid all over the road, and Danny was about two seconds away from blowing his chunks all over the dashboard.  Everything in his field of vision was blurry and rocking up and down like a playground seesaw.  He just wanted to lay down, go to sleep, and forget the last few hours.

He felt a bump as he accidentally drove up on the curb a bit and he heard something scrape against the side of the vehicle.  Brushing it off, he got back on the asphalt and tried to concentrate on the route. Marianne’s house was just around the bend.

 

* * *

 

What Danny had grazed was a giant teddy bear topiary, with enough force to knock it over.  Further down the block, Bog and Marianne heard the roots groaning and snapping, and both glanced up just in time to see it crash to the ground, along with the wildly unsteady van fast approaching in the distance. 

Almost immediately upon seeing this, Marianne saw Bog turn to notice something else.  Following his gaze, her blood ran cold when she saw a familiar shape coming from the other direction.

Bog moved before she did, but she was right on his tail as he hurried out into the yard and voiced the center of her increasing terror as the van came barreling at them.

“Sunny.”

What happened next, occurred so quickly, Marianne barely had time to register it all:

Sunny, apparently thinking he could outrun the rampaging vehicle, decided to risk sprinting across the street to the safety of their lawn, but he’d underestimated the van’s speed, and it was inches from striking him when Bog shot forward and slammed into him hard enough that they both tumbled backwards and rolled into Mrs. Verbana’s yard. 

Frantic, Bog sat up and crouched over Sunny.

“Are ye okay?!”  He asked, too riled up to realize that his hands were fluttering around his friend’s face.     

“Ah!  Bog!” Sunny hissed, as the blades nicked his cheeks, but he couldn’t get away with the taller man on top of him.  “Ow!  Bog, _stop_!”

“I’m yer friend!  It’s okay!”

“Oh!  Bog, don’t!”

The van screeched to a halt, and the commotion stirred the neighbors to life.  Like a swarm of bees, people came pouring out of their houses and rushed towards Bog, thinking that he was attacking the squirming teenager.

“Oh my God!”  Mrs. Verbana hollered from her porch.  “Somebody help us!  Help!”

Roland hopped out of the van and surveyed the scene.  Already, he could see Marianne running in Bog’s direction.  Slipping his hand into his pocket, he gripped the bottle and popped the stopper out.  Everyone else was too distracted by razor blades.  This was his chance. 

Bog didn’t realize what he was doing, until an angry shout cut through the air. 

“What are you doing?!  Get away from him!”  

It was Mr. Plum, and he made the mistake of grabbing Bog’s wrist.  Bog instinctually reared back to face him, making the man lose his grip, and the blades slashed across the man’s chest.  Sugar screamed, along with several other horrified housewives and Bog froze in terror. 

“Someone get the police!”

Seeing that Bog was surrounded, Marianne booked it faster across the road, but was delayed by a pair of arms wrapping around her waist.

“Hey there, buttercup!”

_Fuck, not this again!_

“Let go of me, Roland!”  Marianne yelled, thrashing in his hold.  She could smell the alcohol on him, and was it her imagination, or was he trying to drag her back to her empty house, away from the crowd?

“Heh, _why_?”

Was he serious?  She knew he obviously didn’t care about Bog, but Sunny nearly got run over!  By a car _he_ was riding in!

Fed up, she elbowed him hard in the stomach and broke free.

What she didn’t know was that she’d inadvertently saved herself from much worse than a drunk ex.  The strength of her blow had not just made Roland let go, but it had also knocked the bottle from his grasp.  It fell to his feet and bounced, spilling its contents all over the pavement, and then skittered into a storm drain before he could catch it. 

He stared at the drain, fury bubbling inside him.  There went his ace in the hole. How was he supposed to get Marianne back under control now?  Goddammit.  This was all that damn freak’s fault.  And Roland was gonna make him _pay_.

As Marianne struggled to work her way to Bog, her dad’s car pulled up behind Danny’s van. 

“Hey!”  Her father called out, jumping out of the front seat and jogging over with a frightened Dawn on his heels.  His wide gut made it easier for him to break through the wall of panicked neighbors.

"Sunny!  Sunny!"  Dawn cried  "Boggy, what happened?"

“Get away!”  He barked at Bog, scooping Sunny into his arms.

“Boggy, come home!  Come _home_!”

Dawn tugged on Bog’s shoulder, but her concern for her best friend’s well being made her run after her father as he darted back to their house. 

It was then that there was enough of a gap for Marianne to slip past everyone to Bog’s side.  He looked up at her with such fear and sadness.  This was pretty bad, but all Marianne could do was reach for him.  

However, a blur of gold and green shot in front of her before she could touch Bog, and tackled him.  The attacker then seized Bog by the throat and started slamming him over and over into the grass.

“ROLAND!  STOP IT!  GET OFF OF HIM!”

But her demands were drowned out by the confused and shocked shrieking of the neighbors as they watched the one sided fight. 

When Roland pulled back to punch, Marianne moved to shove him away, but Bog had already brought one hand up to block and ended up slicing into Roland’s forearm, right through the leather of his jacket.  The jock scrambled away with a yelp as blood gushed from the wound, and the neighbors gawked in terror.

Then, a police siren was ringing through the night.  Sergeant Brutus’s squad car was coming from the far end of the block.  Roland eyed it, and a new, more _permanent_ idea took form.  He snuck away, unseen by anyone.     

Marianne helped Bog to stand, and for one agonizing moment, they stared at each other, unsure of what to do.  The red cop lights flashed across Bog’s grim face as Marianne racked her brain for a solution.  Things had gone from bad to worse.  People were hurt, and even if it was unintentional, there was no way to gloss this over. 

Still, Marianne was adamant that Bog would _not_ be arrested again, so she made a decision.  A decision that cracked her heart, but they had no choice.  She breathed one word.

“ _Run_.”

She didn’t need to specify where, for they both knew that there was only once _place_ he could go to now, and be safe from everything.  His brief hesitation brought tears to her eyes, but he would always do as she asked, and with a determined clench of his jaw, he fled.     

The mass of onlookers leapt out of his way, and Officer Brutus pursued Bog down the street and around the corner, towards the mouth of the drive leading back up the spooky hill to Dark Forest Manor.  Like ravenous vultures, the neighbors followed behind, close enough to keep the taillights in sight.  No one wanted to be in the middle incase things got ugly. 

“Sunny’s alright!”  Dawn called out from the front door to the people racing by.  “It was just the tiniest scratch!  But he’s gone, now!  Let’s not bother him anymore!  Please, let’s just leave him alone!”

Seeing that her words had no effect on them, Dawn gave a whimpering huff and stalked back to the couch to tend to Sunny, who was holding a pair of washcloths to his face. 

The boy could see how frazzled she was.  Her lip was trembling and her breathing was quiet, but increasingly erratic as she dabbed at the blood on his cheeks.  She seemed ready to fall apart at any second.  If he knew Dawn, she was probably blaming herself for absolutely _everything_ that had happened by now.   

He couldn’t let her think that; he couldn’t let her _doubt_.

“He saved me, Dawn.”

“What?”

“Danny’s van; it was gonna hit me.  Bog pushed me out of the way.  I think he was just worried that I was hurt.  He didn’t mean any harm.” 

Dawn shivered and blinked at him, as the information sank in.  Of course, she never thought that Bog was actually trying to injure Sunny, but to know that her oldest and closest friend could’ve been-!

Unable to handle the flood of emotions that consumed her, Dawn threw her arms around Sunny, buried her nose into his neck, and just sobbed like there was no tomorrow.

Sunny stiffened, but carefully patted her back and whispered words of comfort to her, unaware of the epiphany going on inside the blonde’s mind.

How could she have been so blind to it for so long?  What she’d been dreaming of, was always right here beside her, and she could’ve lost it all in an instant, if not for Bog.  And even if she’d never be able to thank him in person now, he’d be forever grateful to him for that.

“S-Sunny...” she whispered, leaning back, “...Sunny...I love you.”

The teen flinched.  He was about as obviously dumbstruck as one could be; it was rather comical how bugged out his eyes were.  Surely he’d misheard her.

“...Me?”

But he hadn’t.

“ _You_.” 

Again, Dawn launched herself at him, except this time, she was kissing him full on the lips. 

Sunny flailed a bit at both the action and the enthusiasm, explosions going off in his head, but it thankfully, didn’t him more than a beat to shyly respond.  The indescribable joy one could only feel after achieving the impossible, was cascading through his veins.  No more pathetic pining.  No more hopelessness.  No more secrets. 

This was real.

She loved him.       

The new couple were interrupted by the sharp sound of her dad clearing his throat.  They jumped apart, both blushing and fumbling to compose themselves. 

Sunny felt his stomach drop.  While he was beyond happy that Dawn returned his feelings, if Mr. Edwards, the man he’d considered a second father for so many years, didn’t approve of them for any reason, it would break him.

The pause stretched on for what could’ve been an eternity before the mayor sighed as he strode by them, depositing a bottle of aspirin into Dawn’s hand on his way to the kitchen.

“Well, I’ll have to change a few house rules, but you kids just keep that stuff to a minimum when I’m around, okay?”

Sunny gaped at the man.

“Oh please, son,” Mr. Edwards chuckled, pouring the boy a glass of water, which he gave him as he headed back to the hallway.  “You were subtle, but not _that_ subtle.  All else I can say, is that’s it’s about damn time!”

Dawn giggled and scooted closer to cuddle against Sunny, but he placed a single hand on her shoulder to stop her.  As much as he wanted this, he had to come clean, and it was now or never.

“Wait, Dawn......um, before we get into all _this_...there’s something...I need to tell you......something _important_.” 

 

* * *

 

While all the confessions were going on indoors, outside, Marianne wandered aimlessly down the empty road, dragging her feet.  The police siren was still blaring from the end of the adjoining block, but it was fading.  Same could be said for the warmth in her soul, leaving nothing but an icy, hollow shell.

It wasn’t fair.

How could fate take away such completion from her when she’d only just _found_ it?   

She’d been a fool with Roland; making excuses and ignoring all the signs.  Had she been smarter, she knew he’d would’ve been long gone by now.  Perhaps then, she and Bog could’ve...

But no.

It wasn’t feasible. 

Sooner or later, it would’ve come to this. 

The world was too fickle and cruel to let such innocence and unconditional kindness be.  It wouldn’t have mattered even if she, Dawn, and Sunny were more protective than all branches of the US armed forces combined; the jealousy and suspicions of regular, ordinary, _ignorant_ people was an acid that dissolved all defenses, and rejected what was not considered ‘normal’ like oil and water.  And _they_ were the oil: clogging pores, greasing hair, and polluting the earth; while he was the water: cool and clear, giving life and renewal.    

Bog didn’t belong with them.    

Ironically, a part of Marianne was glad for that.  He was a treasure that they didn’t deserve; existing on a higher plain of human compassion and understanding. 

Yes, he could destroy things and cause pain, but he didn’t _want_ to.  All he ever wanted was to create beauty around himself and his friends.  The evidence of his gifts were in front of nearly every house, every hair do, and every pet. 

And what had he asked for in return?

Not a thing.    

But he’d been paid back with betrayal and hatred.

Some of that had been her fault, and she would carry that guilt until her dying day...

...and yet...

...despite it all, _she_ was still special to him, and she knew......no other man she’d meet from this day on, would ever be able to compare.    

She would never be able to tell him...

Bemoaning all the chances lost, Marianne forced herself not to grieve.  She had saved Bog from his aggressors and from captivity.  He was free, he was home.  No one could get to him now.  He would know where to hide in that big place.  It was as good as a fortified castle.

Taking a deep, shaky, breath, she told herself that she had to find some way to get through this.  She had a family to care for, a degree to finish, and so many other things waiting for her.  Pity that most of those things felt meaningless now.  She knew it was selfish, but she couldn’t help it.  It was as if an essential piece of her very existence had been ripped out, making her want to fall to her knees and weep for Bog’s unbearable loss.

Balling her fists, she closed her eyes in an attempt to steel her resolve and just...take things slow, for she would need an indefinite amount of time to heal.  Perhaps it was unhealthy, all things considered, but she pretended she was in Bog’s arms again, but refused to dwell on the despair of how she'd never truly experience it again.  Instead, she remembered his delicious, soothing scent, and the beautiful, gentle, bliss of being held by the purest, most loving of beings.  Gradually, she began to feel a little better.     

Until the silence was shattered by the sound of four gunshots.


	15. Chapter 15

“Go on, run.”  Brutus murmured into the darkness where Bog had vanished. 

Lowering his side arm from the air, he safely holstered it and turned back to his squad car he’d left parked just outside the broken gate.  By the time he reached it, the morbidly curious crowd was already gathering. 

No one had seen his little diversion.  So much the better.  

“What happened?”

“Is he dead?”

“Did you get him?”

 _You people have seen too many movies._ The Sergeant thought, and climbed into his vehicle.

“It’s all over!”  He announced through the open window as he reversed out.  “Go on home!  There’s nothing more to see.”

“But what happened out there?”

“I don’t wanna go home!”

“We have to know!”

“I want some answers!”

Brutus wheeled the car around and waved them off. 

“It’s all over, ladies.  It’s all _over_.”

The neighbors gawked as the cop car drove away, crying out their indignation.

“Wait, where _is_ he?”

“Where are you going?”

“Get back here!”

“Hey, we’re talking to you!”

“Look at that!  I can’t believe this!”

“Did _you_ see him?”

“He wasn’t in the car with him!”

“Did he kill him?”

“I don’t know!”

“What are we gonna do?”

Through the confusion, it was Sugar Plum who took the lead.

“Oh, for God’s sake! They don’t have him!”  She spat before marching firmly towards the hill.  “I’m goin’!”

“No, Sugar!  That’s not a good idea!  Be careful!”  Her friends gasped in terror, but regardless, they were quick to join her for safety purposes. 

As they huddled together and neared the creepy, overgrown mouth of the drive leading into the property, they all fearfully wondered:

What would they find?  A lifeless body?  Or a savage monster lying in wait for revenge? 

 

* * *

 

Amazingly, Marianne had an impressive head start on the relentless mob of suburbanites.     

After hearing the shots, she’d sprinted between a row of houses, and across the field behind them, up to the left side of the hill.  The stone wall surrounding the perimeter had long since crumbled from years of neglect, so it was easy to find an opening to squeeze through. 

Not so easy was to find her way to the path leading up to the gloomy house.  The dark forest around her was vast and dense.  Only the slight incline she could feel under her feet gave her any sense of direction.  Tall, dead grass brushed her legs as she ran, dodging tree limbs and bushes reaching out for her like claws. 

But she was not bothered by the foreboding atmosphere.  She hurried further and further into the woods, as if on autopilot.  Only one goal pushed her on.  She had to find Bog; she needed to know he was alright. 

Officer Brutus didn’t-?  He couldn’t have!         

Marianne wasn’t sure of anything anymore.  She’d now seen once loving and considerate friends and neighbors become vile, lying things she didn’t even recognize anymore.

No, she would _not_ be satisfied until she saw him with her own eyes.  

And fate must’ve taken pity on her plight, for she soon saw a dim, oblong-shaped glow in the distance; independent of the wild growth trying to swallow her. 

It was the path!

She was on it in less than a minute.  The now unobstructed moon was bright enough to light her way, but she could hear the voices of the crowd somewhere not far down below. 

Ignoring them, she briskly jogged up the rest of the hill.  She didn’t see Bog, nor a blood trail, which sooth her nerves a bit, but nowhere near enough to deter her from her mission. 

Soon, the dreary manor was in view, and Marianne slipped through the ivy-covered front gate and into the courtyard, whose lovely topiaries and flowers were now riddled with weeds in its master’s absence.  She only spared the garden a glimpse as she made a beeline for the mansion.    

It was almost funny how the Dark Forest Manor had been the stuff of nightmares and urban legends ever since childhood, but now, Marianne was barging in like she owned the damn place.  The busted or otherwise curtain-less windows let enough light in to stab the shadows and help her discern shapes in the dusty atrium, and almost as soon as she noticed the stairs, she was already taking them two at a time. 

Perhaps she should’ve called his name, but her throat was too dry from distress to speak.  Her thunderous pulse was accented by the loud, echo of her heels clicking across the wood floors as she searched the empty corridors leading deeper into the house.  All the way up to the decrepit attic.     

Nowhere left to go, and feeling a surge of panic, Marianne spun around, eyes scanning every square inch of the room.

.

.

.

And then she found him.

Alive, unharmed, and sitting in an old fireplace on a straw-filled cot.

When his pale face met hers, a blanket of elation and warmth spread over her, and instantly, she was kneeling by him, stroking his arm and shoulder.  They gazed at each other in silence, neither knowing what to say or do.  Yes, they were together again but, the nightmare wasn’t over.

“They’re comin’?”  He asked calmly.

She shot a glance towards the only window in the room before his next question came. 

“Did I hurt Sunny?”

His tone was serious, not wanting her to try and gloss over it to spare his feelings, but she didn’t need to.

“No!  No, he’s okay.  Mostly, he was just scared.”  She explained, and her grip on his arm grew more firm.  “Bog, I was so afraid.  I thought you were _dead_.”

“…”

Something shifted between them; something strange, and yet oh so familiar, both equally frightening and exciting.  The severity of their situation melted away, and the undeniable tug in her chest returned.  Butterflies soared in her belly when she saw that he seemed to feel it too.  Slowly, they leaned closer. 

“ _I_ didn’t.”

The voice that broke their spell was swiftly followed by a deafening bang that ricocheted off the brick behind them, barely an inch away from their heads. 

Jumping apart, they both turned to see Roland advancing on them from the shadows with a gun in his hand, and he was pointing it straight at Bog.

For a moment, Marianne was too stunned to react; unable to process the fact that someone she’d known for almost her whole life was fully intending to commit murder.  But she hadn’t really known Roland, had she? 

Bog appeared to be just as perplexed as she was, but when he took an inquisitive step in the other man’s direction, and Roland lifted his aim for a kill shot, Marianne frantically threw herself at her ex.

“NO!”

She caught him just in time, shoving his elbow up as he fired, and succeeding in knocking the pistol from his hand, where it skittered out of sight.  Unfortunately, the bullet struck an already rickety beam and a small section of the roof collapsed directly onto Bog. 

Enraged at her interference, Roland snagged a powerful arm around Marianne’s slim waist and threw her down like a rag doll.  Stars blinded her vision as her temple bounced against the dirty floor. 

With his weapon lost and Bog stirring from the rubble, Roland chose the next best thing: a set of fire irons beside the hearth. 

Snatching the heavy poker, he stood over Bog and slammed it hard across his back. 

“NO!”  Marianne cried, struggling to get up through the pounding in her brain.  “NO!  ROLAND, STOP!”

But Roland didn’t pay her any attention.  He just kept hitting Bog over and over again.

“NO!  LEAVE HIM _ALONE_!”

Poor Bog repeatedly tried to either rise or crawl away, but he was helpless under the ruthless onslaught of Roland’s attacks. 

When Marianne finally stood, dizzy and on wobbly knees, she cursed her vulnerability.  What she wouldn’t give to have her fucking sword!  Heck, if her dominant fist wasn’t bandaged and throbbing, she could’ve punched his lights out.  So, she had to improvise.   

Spotting her chance, she grabbed a weighty piece of rotted wood from the wreckage and charged at Roland.

“NO!”  She screamed, smacking him directly in the back of the head. 

The plank wasn’t solid enough to knock him unconscious, but it did make him drop the poker and loose his balance.  He twisted and toppled to the floor, as Marianne tripped and came down on top of his front.   

He immediately made to sit up, but Marianne was fast.  She seized Bog’s left hand and held the middle blade against her ex’s neck.    

“ _Stop_ it,” she growled in a tone laced with venom, “or I’ll kill you myself.”

A tense pause ensued, with no one daring to so much as twitch, and for a few seconds, Marianne foolishly thought that Roland had gotten the message...until he swept the knife away like lighting.

“Bullshit!”  He snarled, and gave her a strong slap across the jaw.

She scarcely had time register the stinging blow, when his leg bent up and he kicked her in the torso with enough force to send her flying off of him so he could scramble for the poker again.     

“Ah!”  Marianne yelped in pain as she rolled and an exposed nail sliced her skin.  Blood trickled down her arm, staining her purple dress. 

Seeing all of this, Bog raced to her side as she got to her feet, gaping at her injuries with blatant worry coloring his ashen features. 

“HEY!”  Roland roared, stalking towards them with the poker raised.  “I _SAID_ , STAY AWAY FROM HER!”

That did it. 

Consumed by a fury Bog had never known before, he whirled around and violently plunged his right hand into Roland’s stomach. 

Marianne’s mouth fell open in shock as she watched Bog walk a horrified Roland three paces backwards before he ripped his scissors free. 

Roland staggered and crashed through the broken window, landing with a sickening crunch in the courtyard below.

Darting to Bog’s side, they both peeked out the window at the prone, crumpled form on the ground, haloed by shards of glass, shirt blooming crimson.   

He was dead. 

Roland was dead...

...and Bog had killed him.

Ashamed of his actions, however arguably justified, Bog moved away just as the muted sounds of the chattering neighbors approached the manor.  Marianne could just make them out, hesitantly trudging up the path.  They'd be here in mere moments!

Bog stared at her, his crystal blue orbs shimmering, and all Marianne could do was stare back, speechless.  Unbidden tears brimmed in her eyes, not for what he’d done, but for the finality of its meaning. 

Death was the ultimate sin, so what could she do now to protect him?  No one could fix _this_!  Not her, not Dawn, not her father, and especially not Officer Brutus.  Any flickering hope she’d had for the two of them was snuffed out like a candle in the wind.  She was shaking and her insides felt as if they were splintering apart.

But Bog’s voice was tender as he said one final word:

“Goodbye.”

It pierced her like an arrow, but not in an unpleasant manner.  Her breath caught and her heart burst with emotion only he would possess from her.  All trepidation and confusion dispersed, and though she despaired, her strength renewed itself in the necessity of their parting.      

But she would not go without giving him a gift; a pure sign of her devotion. 

Her lips pressed against his in a chaste and tragic, farewell kiss, and stifling a sob, she nuzzled her cheek against his and whispered: 

“I love you.”

His expression was soft and sorrowful as she pulled away, and with one more aching glance, she left him.   

Fleeing back down the staircase, she heard several shrieks outside; no doubt from discovering Roland.  Her mind was reeling.  What would she say to them?  There was no telling what they would do to Bog!  She needed to stop them.  But how?

Reentering the atrium, something snagged her attention.  On the opposite end of the room, swathed in cobwebs, was what looked like an assembly line of sorts, and there, on a shelf, was her solution.  Quickly, she picked up the assumed prototype, and rapidly flushed out her story. 

When she stepped out the front door, her neighbors were lingering, too disgusted and freaked to walk past the corpse and into the spooky mansion obviously hiding a murderer. 

“Is he in there?”  Someone asked. 

“...He’s dead.”  She replied. 

A ripple of surprise spread through the crowd.

“The roof caved in on him.”  Marianne went on.  “They killed each other.”

When nobody else spoke, and she put the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

“You can see for yourselves.”  She said and held up her discovery: a dismembered scissorhand.  “ _See_?”

Her neighbors remained silent, but their horror was plain.  She saw faces turn white and hands fly to mouths, as the realization of what had allegedly occurred sank in; what they had driven an innocent man to.

The guilt poured over them all, for acting like greedy animals and condemning a pure soul to death, for no reason at all, other than the fact that he was different.  They had only pretended to accept him, and viciously expelled and hunted him when things went wrong; not wanting the truth, just wanting someone to blame.

For what might’ve been an eternity, no one could move, let alone say anything.  Not until Mrs. Verbana sullenly wrapped her bathrobe tighter around her husky form. 

“I’m going home.”

Gradually, the crowd followed her example and shuffled out of the courtyard with the somber reverence of a funeral procession.  They had an ambulance to call and empty, but wiser lives to resume.    

Sugar Plum was the last to go, she was frozen as a statue blinking at Marianne with building remorse. 

Maybe it was petty, but the younger woman hoped that she felt awful; for her unwanted advances and cruel lies.  She only hoped that these events would change her for the better.

When Plum too, eventually departed at her husband’s behest, Marianne waited until they were completely out of sight to ensure Bog’s safety before she began her long and wretched journey back to her house and her family.          

 


	16. Epilogue

_-60 years later-_

“I never saw him again.  Not after that night.”

Melody shifted in her flower-pattered blankets as her grandmother finished her tale.  She certainly hadn’t expected an explanation such as _that_  for why it snowed in the perpetually dry climate of their small town.   

“How do you know?”  She asked, cuddling her teddy.

Her grandfather, who’d been sitting quietly in the easy chair adjacent to the bed, took his wife’s wizened hand and her sky blue eyes sparkled lovingly at him.

“Because we were there.”  He answered.

“Our father passed away a year later, and left us this house.”  Grandma Dawn said gently.  “A little while after she finished college, Marianne went out one night when it was snowing like it is now.  Before she left, she kissed my cheek and told me she was going to be very happy from then on.  We found an ice figurine of a butterfly on the front porch the next morning.  She never came home.”

“But you could’ve gone up there.”  Melody told them.  “You _both_ could still go.”

Grandpa Sunny shook his head.

“No, sweetheart.  We’re an old man and woman now.  We would rather they’d remember us the way we were.”

Dawn nodded, picturing the two of them in her head, tending that beautiful garden together. 

“How do you know they’re still alive?”

“We don’t know,” he sighed thoughtfully, “we’re not for sure, but……we _believe_ they are.”

“You see, before he came down here, it _never_ snowed; and afterwards, it did.  If they weren’t up there now, I don’t think it would be snowing.”  Her grandmother clarified and the most blissful of smiles touched her aging, but relentlessly spirited lips.  “Sometimes, I can still see my sister dancing in it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it. Yes, I know I am a sucker for happy endings, but let's face it, the movie had some glaring plot holes and a huge amount of suspension of disbelief, so I tweaked some things. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this, and a BIG hug to all of you that stuck with me throughout the entirety of this fic, since I know it wasn't the most popular of movie AUs.  
> Love you all!!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be trying to stick as close to the movie plot as I can, while adding Strange Magic twists here and there. Sadly, some characters might not make an appearance, but I'll do my best to include everyone.  
> Anyway, leave a kudos and/or a comment and let me know what you think!  
> <3


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